Hunter and Prey
by Runedancer
Summary: There is an ancient tradition at Imladris designed to choose the best warrior. It usually causes chaos, but this year, all bets are off! Slash.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Hunter and Prey, 1/?  
  
Author: Rune Dancer, runedancer@hotmail.com  
  
Rating: R  
  
Paring: That would be telling.  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing, Tolkien is God, yadda, yadda.  
  
Warnings: Slash.  
  
Archiving: Anyone else who wants it, just let me know.  
  
A/N: This has nothing to do with my previous Unspoken story arc, although some of the characterizations are eerily similar. Updates will be haphazard, but I promise to finish it.  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
"You are insane."  
  
"Maybe, but think of the rewards . . . "  
  
"He'll kill us both."  
  
"Not if he doesn't figure it out, which he won't if you don't panic and let on."  
  
"I am not going to panic." Elrohir glared at his twin, who looked insufferably sure of himself as usual. "I never panic."  
  
"Not with anyone else, maybe, but you like him too much, I think." With that final comment, which could, Elrohir thought nervously, be taken a number of different ways, Elladan slipped off into the night. His dark green clothing soon made him indistinguishable even to elven eyes.   
  
Elrohir fell back against the mossy rocks behind him, which formed a convenient chair overlooking the most spectacular of Imladris' many waterfalls. He had fled here for a little peace and quiet, not to mention a chance to think, but Elladan had followed and ruined the area's usual serenity. How had he managed to get himself into this? Of course the answer was obvious--to have refused would have aroused Elladan's suspicions, and that was something he could not afford to do.  
  
Elrohir drew his cloak further around him, not because the night air was cold--for despite the approach of autumn, the air still felt balmy to elvin sensibilities. No, he just wanted the feeling of comfort it brought, although he would have much preferred a warm pair of arms in its place, especially one pair in particular . . .   
  
He shrugged off that thought as futile, and tried to concentrate on dealing with the current problem, nay catastrophe, with which Elladan's prankish nature had saddled him. The cause of it all was the annual hunt, a tradition in Imladris going back well over a thousand years, which drew elves from all over Middle Earth every autumn. The Lorien elves came in droves, and usually proved the greatest rivals for the Imladris participants, but in recent years a few daring souls had started to come from as far away as Mirkwood to try and prove themselves against the best of the best. Elrohir supposed that some of these had been a bit surprised at first, when they found out that the rules of the game were not, perhaps, as its title would suggest. There were, for instance, no animals in this hunt.  
  
Elrohir watched as the moon rose slowly between the branches of a nearby tree, and noticed by its pale light that the night's breeze was causing a few dried leaves to tremble on their branches. By the time the hunters arrived in a few weeks' time, the leaves would have begun to fall in earnest, coating the forest floor in a crackling carpet sure to give away anyone's passage through the narrow pathways. That was, of course, the point of holding the hunt in autumn, when summer's thick green camouflage had faded, but before any snow had fallen to muffle the sounds of passage. The forest's foliage had been particularly dense this year, prompted by extra good rains in early spring, so a veritable deluge of leaves waited to tumble to earth. It was going to be impossible, this hunt, he thought, as a single leaf detached itself from the highest point of the tree and wafted to the ground at his feet.  
  
The hunt had originated from a desire to better train warriors, and still carried that connotation. Whoever won was widely regarded as the best warrior in elvindom, and received equal parts awe and envy from their fellows until the next year's game. Haldir of Lorien had won the year before, and Legolas of Mirkwood the year before that, so the elves of Imladris were fairly bursting with the desire to win back the honors for themselves once more. Elladan could not have picked a worse year for his joke.  
  
Elrohir could still feel the tension in the great hall from that night's meeting, which had been carefully contrived to insure that the elders had finished their meal and departed, leaving the banqueting hall to the revelries of the young, as his father had put it with a smile before retiring for the night. There had followed much whispered debate, leading almost to blows when Elladan accused one of the dissenting voices of cowardice, but eventually things had gone his way. After all, they wanted to win.  
  
The decision had been clenched when Elladan had declared that he and Elrohir would be the ones to insure that the two main threats to an Imladris victory--the last two winners--were "taken care of," leaving the field open for their fellow warriors to triumph. Elrohir had begun to protest; Elladan's plan, although not technically against the rules as anything was considered fair in the hunt that did not involve serious injury to one of the participants, was risky. Neither Haldir nor Legolas was likely to take well to being removed from the field, and both were cunning warriors with a number of tricks up their sleeves. They were not the main reason Elrohir was now wishing that he could manage to break a leg before the hunt took place, however. No, the real threat was what the master of the hunt was going to say about this blatantly unsportsmanlike action. The real problem was Glorfindel.  
  
Elrohir closed his eyes and willed away the image of Glorfindel's livid face that had risen up before him. He was well aware of what his father's favorite councilor looked like when enraged, for somehow Elrohir had always managed to infuriate him. Elladan's pranks were far more frequent and mischievous, but it always seemed to be Elrohir who managed to get caught. Glorfindel's bright blue eyes would sparkle and his face would flush as he was giving his young charge yet another dressing down. It was a sight that had sent Elrohir into shivers of dread as a young elf; since fenneth, however, he had been shivering for quite another reason.   
  
It had been to keep his annoyingly perceptive brother from guessing his feelings for their old tutor--a prospect that caused him paroxysms of dread--that forced him to agree with this latest, crazy scheme. Glorfindel would most certainly NOT be pleased if he found out what they'd done, but anything was better than having Elladan guess why Elrohir would rather be called a coward a hundred times over than displease the hunt master. His brother's impish sense of humor would insure that a banner with their names entwined with hearts was spread across the main courtyard the day after he discovered the secret. And that was best-case scenario. No, Elladan must never know.  
  
So, as the circle of excited elves looked on, no one even daring to breathe, Elrohir plunged his hand into the velvet money pouch his brother was holding out. Inside, as Elladan had just explained, were pebbles of different colors. The green ones represented Mirkwood while the golden ones stood for Lothlorien. With a fleeting thought that he was throwing away any chance of winning Glorfindel's respect--all he'd ever dared to hope for--anytime in the next century, Elrohir closed his eyes and chose. The pebble was green, indicating that he had just won the unenviable task of holding Legolas of Mirkwood captive for the duration of the hunt.   
  
Looking up at Ithil, which appeared slightly golden this close to harvest, he wondered if it would have made any difference which stone he'd selected. They both represented daunting tasks, yet Elladan had looked strangely pleased as he regarded his brother's selection. How anyone could be contented at the thought of having to capture Haldir of Lorien was beyond him--the very idea made Elrohir feel slightly faint--but then, look at his own option. Honestly, he thought, letting his head fall back against the mossy stone, how could things possibly get any worse?  
  
The next day he found out.  
  
* * *  
  
"He's going to do WHAT?!" Elrohir knew his voice had cracked alarmingly on the last word, but didn't care. He was doomed--by Elbereth, so very, very doomed--what difference did it make if he suddenly sounded like a girl? By the time Glorfindel finished with him, he'd likely be a gelding anyway. "No. No no no no no no . . . "  
  
Elladan grabbed him by the collar and shook him. "Calm down," he hissed, kicking the door of his brother's room closed behind him. "Do you want to alert the whole house?"  
  
"Let go of me!" Elrohir freed himself from Elladan's stranglehold and backed away, straightening his robes with a hand that trembled ever so slightly. "Well," he commented after a moment, "that's it, then. We call it off."  
  
"Like hell we do." Elladan circled around to face him, his expression one of the utmost determination. Elrohir felt the huge wave of relief that had just washed over him recede slightly at the sight. "We gave our word in front of the entire officer corps of Imladris. We back out now and we'll never live it down, never get back their respect! We're just going to have to go through with it."  
  
Elrohir batted away the hand Elladan tried to lay on his shoulder and glowered at his twin. "What do you mean, we? You'll be off pursuing Haldir--and don't lie to me, I saw the way you looked last night when I drew that pebble! And the way you couldn't keep your eyes off him last year. How did you do it anyway? Were there any gold pebbles at all in that bag?"  
  
"You're babbling."  
  
"Well I think I have cause!" Elrohir began pacing up and down his room, desperately trying to think of a way out of this. "Surely the guards must understand? With the substitution, they can't still expect . . . "  
  
"I just talked to them," Elladan replied, shaking his head. "They want me to convey their deepest respects to you and to inform you that, should it be needed, they will take care of all the funeral arrangements . . . "  
  
"This isn't funny!"   
  
"No," Elladan sobered somewhat. "I know it isn't, but I also know that we can't simply back out."  
  
"Then YOU do it!" Elrohir stopped pacing with a bit of renewed hope breaking through the black clouds that had shrouded him. "This was all your idea anyway. We'll just switch, and I'll deal with Haldir."  
  
Elladan stared at him for a long moment, then burst into peals of laughter. He laughed so hard that he finally collapsed onto the bed, gasping for breath. "You?," he finally managed to wheeze, "take care of Haldir o'Lorien? My dear brother, he'd have you dangling from the nearest tree limb within five minutes! I've had a year to plan this and even I am a bit . . . " Seeing Elrohir's expression, Elladan sobered slightly, but his lips still had the tendency to quirk at odd moments as he explained. "All right, I admit it. I did, er, arrange things, at the selection. But I know Legolas--he's fair, and he plays by the rules, well, more or less." Elladan looked slightly reminiscent, and Elrohir suddenly wondered what past pranks his brother and the heir of Mirkwood had managed together. He decided that he didn't really want to know. "He wouldn't have been happy, of course, but he wouldn't have done something really . . . unpleasant . . . to you if you failed."  
  
Elrohir regarded his brother levelly. "And so, being the selfless, caring creature you are, naturally you took the biggest challenge on yourself?"  
  
Elladan grinned. "Absolutely. Completely self-sacrificing, that's me."  
  
"You aren't going to tell me what you're really up to, are you?"  
  
Elladan folded his hands behind his head and gazed innocently up at the ceiling. "Let's just say that there was a bit of a bet made after last year's game, and that I intend to win it."  
  
"Fine, then I suggest you start thinking of some way of helping me to best Haldir, because there is no way . . . "  
  
"Elrohir, please, I'm begging you. See?," Elladan fell theatrically to his knees. "I prostrate myself in supplication, just don't back out now!" He hugged his brother's legs, almost causing Elrohir to topple over. "Seriously, brother, don't do this to me. I've waited too long for this, and who knows when I'll have another chance?"  
  
It took Elladan another ten minutes of wheedling, pleading and promising any and everything to gain his brother's agreement, but he finally managed. Elrohir was actually more swayed by the thought of the entire guard holding a grudge against him for who knew how many centuries, than he was by Elladan's outrageous antics. His brother's charm, if that's what it could be called, had never impressed him much. He found himself almost hoping that Haldir would leave HIM dangling from a tree branch.  
  
After Elladan finally left, still singing Elrohir's praises, the younger twin sat on his bed and thought. All right, he had a problem. A very big problem. And one, moreover, that he was going to have to solve in the scant two weeks until the contest. It shouldn't be too difficult, he told himself; after all, he had time and the element of surprise on his side. Didn't he?  
  
* * *  
  
Glorfindel watched through the library window as Elladan sprinted down the front steps of the palace to greet Legolas and his entourage, calling out wild whoops of greeting as he did so. Try as he might, he had never been able to instill in that elf even a modicum of decorum, and the hundred or so years since his majority had not dampened his youthful enthusiasm one bit. He saw Legolas glance up at the house and catch his eye, then grin and say something to Elladan in an undertone that not even Glorfindel's ears could catch. The two collapsed, sniggering, into each other's arms, then walked off in the direction of the statuary garden with their heads close together. They were, of course, up to something; Glorfindel only hoped they managed to keep the mayhem to a minimum this year.  
  
Turning back to the room, he was surprised to see Elrond with his hand lightly caressing Erestor's shoulder. They rarely touched, even in such an innocuous way, in public; still, as the three of them were the room's only inhabitants, perhaps they did not think of themselves as on display. They must know that he had long been aware of their relationship--even as discreet as they were, it was impossible for someone so often in their company not to notice the meaningful glances and special smiles--but had never commented on it. Technically, Elrond and Celebrian were the perfect couple, and if the mistress of Imladris happened to be away more than she was in residence, apparently no one else thought it odd.   
  
"Are you looking forward to the challenge, then, Glorfindel?," Erestor asked him, grinning wickedly from behind the messy desk. "After so many years as hunt master, it must be refreshing to be able to participate for once."  
  
"Don't tease," Elrond chided his lover lightly.  
  
"I'm not," Erestor protested innocently. "I fully expect our dear seneschal to give a good show; after all," he added with a grin, "I have a considerable wager riding on the contest!"  
  
Elrond sighed in a longsuffering way, and settled himself on the divan beside the desk. Even though it was his library and his writing table, he couldn't get anywhere near it when Erestor was working. Papers, ledgers, books and parchment spilled off every surface and covered a good deal of the surrounding floor as well. How the elf ever managed to keep such accurate books in such a haphazard fashion Glorfindel would never know.   
  
"I am doing this as a favor to Legolas," he repeated, for at least the tenth time that day. He was tired of getting hateful looks from the guards, who regarded his decision to agree to Legolas' entreaty to be his substitute as a personal affront. Their constant whining since he'd made the announcement had made it clear that he would be paying for his charitable impulse for years to come--especially if he won. "You know I had no choice, Erestor," he snapped, seeing the amused look on his friend's face.   
  
"Oh, I admit that thwarting Thranduil must have been a deep temptation, but it DOES rather leave you in a quandary, doesn't it? To win or not to win . . . to look incompetent in front of your own elves, or to seem a traitor . . . "  
  
"That's enough, Erestor." Elrond murmured, but his lover feigned not to hear.  
  
"After all, should you lose, it may look to some uncharitable souls as if you took the position as hunt master so you wouldn't HAVE to compete, and thereby show what years of inaction can do to once finely honed skill . . ."  
  
Before Erestor could finish his sentence, he found himself pinned to the wall of the library by one of the spears that usually ornamented the paneling above the fireplace. It had caught the slight amount of loose fabric making up the fashionable neckline of his mulberry robes, and trapped him so tightly that his breath had been momentarily cut off.   
  
"I SAID, that's ENOUGH." Elrond reached up and pulled the spear loose, releasing a very irritated looking Erestor, who glared across the width of the room at Glorfindel.   
  
"Dear me," he commented, rubbing his throat, "It seems I touched a nerve."  
  
"Not at all, Erestor, I was just demonstrating how easily you'll win your bet."  
  
"I didn't say I'd bet ON you, Glorfindel," Erestor commented spitefully.  
  
"Oho!," Glorfindel crossed his arms and regarded his friend through narrowed eyes. "Are you hinting that you think one of those children can best me?"  
  
"Oh no," Erestor commented, straightening his collar in that incredibly prissy way that Glorfindel had always hated. "I'm saying it outright. Haldir will win again this year. With Legolas forbidden by his darling papa to "demean" himself by competing with the lower classes, everyone knows that." Erestor grinned at him. "Why, I couldn't even get odds on you!"  
  
"Couldn't you?" Elrond's interest had picked up. He normally ignored the regular sparring that went on between his two advisors, but apparently they had managed to spark his interest. "I'll take that bet!"  
  
Erestor glanced at him in surprise. "You will?"  
  
"Certainly! I could hardly favor one of the Galadrim over our own, now could I? So what will it be?" He began rooting through Erestor's piles for a spare quill, then paused with it poised over a bit of parchment. "What shall the stakes be then?"  
  
Erestor looked slightly nonplussed, something that only happened to him around Elrond. You'd think he'd know better after so many years, Glorfindel thought, biting his cheek to keep from grinning. After all, where did he think the twins received their appalling sense of humor? Elbereth knew, he'd never seen Celebrian lose her dignity enough even to smile at a joke, much less to plot mischief. He didn't know what Elrond had in mind, but it should be good. "I . . . that is, I'll have to think on it."  
  
"No, no. None of that. You were so certain a moment ago that Glorfindel will lose. Don't tell me you're trying to back out now?"  
  
"Yes, Erestor. Can it be that my rusty skills worry you?"  
  
Erestor pouted, and put a light hand on Elrond's sleeve. "Can't we discuss this later, melethryn? I have so much work to do right now . . . "  
  
Elrond ginned in a particularly evil way. "No, we can't. Ah," his eyes suddenly lit up in the way Glorfindel had long ago learned to fear. "I have it! Remember that little conversation we had, oh, I think it was a month or so ago? If Glorfindel wins . . . "  
  
Erestor looked appalled. "Elrond . . . ", he clutched his lover's sleeve pathetically. "You aren't, you can't be, serious . . . "  
  
"What is it?" Glorfindel looked between them with avid curiosity. When they just stayed, frozen in their places, communicating something to each other without words, he snorted. "I think, considering I am the one being wagered on here, that I have a right to know."  
  
Elrond opened his mouth, but before he could utter so much as a syllable, Erestor had clamped a hand over it. "Don't you dare," he gasped.  
  
"Oh come now." Glorfindel looked from one to the other in growing irritation. "Surely it can't be THAT bad? Just tell me."  
  
Elrond pried Erestor loose and settled his slightly quaking lover on the divan beside him, but shook his head at Glorfindel. "I'm sorry, old friend, but it seems Erestor would prefer our wager kept quiet, at least for the moment. But if you should win . . . "  
  
Glorfindel grinned at the pale secretary, who suddenly did not look nearly so insouciant. "Oh I'll win, Elrond, never fear." He smiled evilly into Erestor's large black eyes. "I'll make sure of it!"  
  
TBC 


	2. Two

Title: Hunter and Prey, 2/? Author: Rune Dancer, runedancer@hotmail.com Rating: R Paring: That would be telling. Disclaimer: I own nothing, Tolkien is God, yadda, yadda. Warnings: Slash. Archiving: Anyone who wants it, just let me know. A/N: This has nothing to do with my previous Unspoken story arc, although some of the characterizations are eerily similar. Updates will be haphazard, but I promise to finish it.  
  
* * *  
  
Rumil draped himself across Elladan's lounge and looked up at him through long blond lashes. "You aren't going to call it off, then?"  
  
"Absolutely not! Why, did you want . . . "  
  
"No! Elbereth forefend! He's been insufferable ever since last year. If he should claim the prize again . . .," Rumil shuddered, Elladan assumed for effect, but given his expression it could have been genuine.  
  
"No one can stand him," Orophin agreed, blowing sweetly scented smoke in Elladan's direction. Haldir had started his brother on the Hobbit's vice a few years ago, after discovering the plant on a trip he took to Gondor for Lord Celeborn. Rumil hadn't taken up the habit, but Orophin was already becoming a nuisance with it despite the fact that the Lorien delegation had only arrived that morning. Normally, Elladan would have thrown a pillow at him, or at least opened a window pointedly, but he needed to keep the brothers happy. They were, after all, an integral part of his plan. "I'll bet we could've convinced half the wood to help us, prize or no prize, if you hadn't insisted on such secrecy," Orophin continued, and then his expression brightened. "I imagine we still could, if you like. I'll bet any number of people would rather take Haldir down a peg or two than try for the prize. It isn't as if any of us stand a chance anyway, what with Glorfindel competing."  
  
"And exactly why is Imladris' seneschal contending for Mirkwood?" Rumil shot Elladan a sharp look. "Everyone's speculating, you know--it's the talk of the hunt so far."  
  
Elladan pasted an innocent look on his face and gave what he hoped was a convincing shrug. "You'll have to ask him. All I know is that half the guards want to lock him in the cellars until the contest is over, and the other half to beat him senseless, rather than let him take the prize for Mirkwood."  
  
Rumil looked thoughtful. "Glorfindel in a dim cellar for the better part of a day?" He grinned, "Maybe I'll volunteer to, er, guard him, just so he doesn't stub his toe in the dark. Would there be restraints involved, at all?"  
  
Elladan smiled. "Just make sure you leave a will."  
  
Rumil sighed and slouched further down on the settee until he was almost prone. "Just a thought," he muttered.  
  
"So, my friends, shall we get down to business, then?," Elladan asked, smiling brightly at his co-conspirators. Ah, yes. This would be a hunt to remember.  
  
* * *  
  
One week to go, one week to go, one week . . .  
  
"Elrohir."  
  
"Aughh!"  
  
"I'm sorry!" Elrohir turned abruptly to find Erestor clutching his chest with one hand while he gripped the stone wall behind him with the other. His eyes looked huge in the dimness. "I didn't mean to startle you." He looked almost as surprised as Elrohir felt.  
  
"That's all right." Elrohir was normally not the nervous type, but the past week had been hard, and the damned chant that had taken up residence in his mind lately wasn't helping things. Realizing that Erestor's eyes must have adjusted to the cellar's darkness by now, he hastily hid the length of chain behind his back, but apparently was not quick enough.  
  
"He'll never fall for it, you know," Erestor told him, almost mournfully.  
  
"For what?" But even as he said it, Elrohir knew it was no good. He was hopeless at this sort of thing. After a week of planning, he had been unable to come up with anything better than following a joking remark he'd heard one of the guards make about the cellars. Successfully chaining Glorfindel down here was, he had to agree, about as likely as, well, as Elladan being able to deal with Haldir. The only thing that made him feel better was the knowledge that they would go down together.  
  
"I, er, could help, you know."  
  
"What?" Elrohir decided that he must be even worse off than he'd thought. He was obviously having auditory hallucinations. This was not good.  
  
Erestor glided soundlessly forward and gripped the arm with the chain in it. "I think we may have a common goal," he said, so softly as to almost count as a whisper. "At least, Elladan seemed to think . . . "  
  
"He TOLD you?!" Elrohir was incensed. They had both promised faithfully not to tell a living soul. The only chance he had of coming out of this with a whole skin was if Glorfindel didn't know it was he who'd ruined things. And if Elladan had told Erestor, he might as well have told father, too, because the two of them were as thick as thieves.  
  
"He doesn't know," Erestor commented, with that annoying habit he had of seeming to read minds. "I haven't told anyone and your brother told only me. He just seemed to think you might need . . .," he broke off with a sigh. "Look Elrohir. We agree on one thing. Glorfindel must NOT win. Correct?"  
  
"Well . . . ," amazingly enough, Erestor looked deadly earnest. Could it be? Was he actually getting an ally? A broad smile appeared on Elrohir's face and a weight seemed to lift from him. He was able to breath deeply again for the first time in days. It must be true; Glorfindel wouldn't have sent Erestor to deal with this for him. If he'd heard anything, he'd have taken care of it personally. Elrohir tried to ignore the little shiver that thought caused. "You mean it? You'll help, and you won't tell Ada?"  
  
Erestor smiled, a little grimly. "It's a promise. Now," he said, taking his former charge's arm companionably. "Let's go have a chat somewhere a bit more comfortable, shall we? And we'll see what we can do about our mutual problem."  
  
* * *  
  
"Blackmail is such an ugly word, Glorfindel." Legolas admonished as he finished threading a pale blue ribbon through his last braid and tied it off. Usually he eschewed excessive ornamentation, but apparently he was feeling festive. "And if you want someone to blame, try father. He won't mind--he's used to it."  
  
"Did he really forbid you, or is this just a ruse to give you a chance to torment me?"  
  
"Oh, he forbade it, all right. Of course, that was after a friend of mine finished telling him about all the debauchery that traditionally follows the big event--with the winner taking center stage."  
  
"And he believed that?!" Glorfindel looked at him in amazement. "I always heard Thranduil was a clever one."  
  
"He is," Legolas smiled smugly, "but so am I. And my friend is VERY persuasive."  
  
"I'm surprised he let you come, then."  
  
"Oh, he didn't. I am supposedly safely enmeshed in a tricky diplomatic exercise in Lorien." Legolas laughed at his companion's expression. "Oh don't worry. It's being seen to--and by one of our best diplomats at that. I'd never let father down."  
  
Glorfindel refrained from rolling his eyes. He had, at one time, been convinced that Elladan had no equal as a mischief-maker, but was quickly revising his opinion. "So, what do you have in mind now? Some new way to make me look bad, I suppose?"  
  
"Certainly not!" Legolas appeared amused. "I meant what I said--I want you to win."  
  
"And that's all there is to it? You, who won the contest easily just two years ago, believe your only chance of success now to be a substitution?"  
  
Legolas laughed, a joyous, tinkling sound that was quite infectious. "Oh, Glorfindel, you are a treasure!" He smiled as he drew a silver blue robe over his head. "I can almost understand why . . .," he cut off his sentence abruptly.  
  
"Why what?" Glorfindel watched as Legolas' head emerged from the silken folds, blue eyes dancing merrily. "Oh, nothing." He grinned at Glorfindel's suspicious look. "Will you just relax? Trust me, as long as you go through with this, I'll forget all about your little slip up. No one need ever know."  
  
Glorfindel glowered at him, but he knew when he was bested. One damned night of drinking with Elladan and Legolas after last year's hunt, and one stupid, drunken admission, and now one who was little more than an elfling was blackmailing him. It served him right. "You know I have no choice," he grumbled.  
  
"That's the spirit!" Legolas clapped him on the back and went humming from the room, obviously very pleased with himself. Glorfindel sighed and rubbed his eyes. It was going to be a very long week.  
  
* * *  
  
Haldir stared suspiciously around the huge courtyard. He had schooled his expression to look as if he was merely admiring the decorations for that night's feast, but in fact, he was sizing up the competition. As they were doing to him, he thought smugly. Oh, he knew they were plotting, all of them hoping to think up a way to knock him out of contention, but it wasn't going to work. He could practically taste victory, and no one was going to take it from him. Why, Legolas was so worried about being shown up again that he wasn't even taking part this year! Haldir wondered how many others would drop out in defeat over the next week. He smirked to himself; he hoped there would be at least a few left to compete against, or it would all be so dull.  
  
"Enjoying the festivities?" Haldir glanced over his shoulder to see one of Lord Elrond's sons regarding him with an odd glint in his eyes. Which one was this? He could never tell them apart.  
  
"I wasn't aware that anything was due to begin until tonight," Haldir replied easily.  
  
"The formal entertainment will begin at nine, after the feast," the unknown Peredhil replied, just as casually, "but the real fun has already started." He leaned closer. "They're all watching you, you know."  
  
Haldir smiled smugly. "I know."  
  
"We expect quite a hunt this year--and as far as I'm concerned, you're the star attraction."  
  
Haldir glanced suspiciously at his companion, but saw nothing except an open, friendly face. He preened slightly. It was good that someone could appreciate his skill; the Valar knew his brothers couldn't swallow their jealousy long enough even to listen to the full account of how he'd won the prize last year. Since neither of them had come even close to his total, one would have thought they'd have been more attentive, if only to learn something. "You're too kind, er . . ."  
  
"Elladan."  
  
"Yes, of course." Haldir felt a little foolish, but then, the two brothers did look so much alike. At least Elladan didn't seem offended. "Will you not be participating, then?"  
  
"Oh, no," Elladan smiled at him charmingly. "We know these woods too well, you see, my brother and I. Father feels that it would give us an unfair advantage."  
  
"But surely, your guards must know them nearly as well?"  
  
"Oh, no." Elladan trailed a finger along the carved railing of the terrace. "I don't think anyone, even father, knows the grounds and woods as we do. And besides," his expression became somewhat coy, "someone had to hide the prize, didn't they?"  
  
Haldir looked eagerly at his companion. "You mean you . . . "  
  
Elladan smiled at him. "That's right," he looked around, then continued in a lowered voice when it appeared that no one was watching. "Don't tell anyone, but we hid it just this morning, before the last delegation arrived. I must say, it's in a far more difficult position than last year. I told Elrohir that we'd made it too difficult, but he did insist . . . "  
  
"But," Haldir's head was spinning. He had not known before who hid the prize, but had assumed it to be Lord Elrond. To actually be talking to the one responsible . . . of course, it wasn't as if he needed any hints to help find it, but if Elladan should accidentally slip up . . . well, as they said, all's fair in love and war. "Isn't it a bit risky," he asked casually, "hiding it so early? What if someone stumbles across it?"  
  
Elladan laughed. "Oh, I don't think that's very likely," he remarked. "It's too chilly to want to get that wet!" He stopped and clapped a hand to his mouth, looking guiltily over it at Haldir. "Just forget I said anything," he pleaded after a moment. "I really must cut down on the wine with lunch."  
  
"Not at all," Haldir assured him genially. "In any case, with the amount of water in Imladris, that hardly narrows the field much, does it?"  
  
Elladan looked relieved. "You are kind," he said with feeling, and there was that odd glint again. Haldir smiled as Elladan moved off to greet more of his family's guests. He only hoped that he didn't give anyone else any hints. Perhaps he should keep an eye on him, just to make sure he didn't slip up again. After a moment's contemplation, Haldir wandered off in Elladan's general direction, as if by chance.  
  
* * *  
  
How does he DO that?, Elrohir wondered, watching through the window as his brother drew Haldir around the courtyard as if on leading strings. He sighed and turned back to the task at hand, which was anything but comfortable. Curse Erestor, why had he volunteered him for this?  
  
"I want to make it clear that I am truly insulted," Glorfindel was saying. "I gave my word--certainly that should be sufficient."  
  
Elrohir cringed, but did not move from his chair in front of the door. "I . . . I'm sorry, Glorfindel," he offered, "but Erestor said most particularly . . . "  
  
"Yes, yes," Glorfindel ran a hand over his hair, which glimmered in the lamplight as if made of spun gold. Elrohir shook his head to clear it. Stay focused, he told himself sternly. "I know this is not your fault, Elrohir," his companion was saying. "I shall, however, be having very strong words with your father and Erestor upon their return."  
  
"They shouldn't be long," Elrohir said, as much to reassure himself as Glorfindel. Ever since he had begun to realize that his interest in his old tutor was somewhat more than casual, Elrohir had made a point never to be alone with him. In most cases, that had been easy, as meals were taken communally and there were usually servants bustling about or guests lounging around the common rooms of the house. Glorfindel also stayed busy with his many duties, and was often gone inspecting the borders and overseeing the guards for days at a time. This was the first time, then, in decades that Elrohir could remember spending any length of time alone with him. So far, Glorfindel's ire over being "imprisoned," as he termed it, while Elrond and Erestor hid the prize somewhere on the grounds, had preoccupied him. Elrohir could only hope it would continue to do so until the others returned.  
  
"So, Elrohir," Glorfindel sounded strangely hearty suddenly. "How shall we pass the time, then? They could be gone for hours."  
  
Elrohir desperately tried not to blush, but it was difficult considering the image that had immediately come to mind. "Er," he stared at Glorfindel helplessly, praying that his power of speech would soon return.  
  
"Chess, cards, books? Or would you prefer a nice conversation?" Glorfindel cocked his head to the side and looked thoughtful. "Do you know, I can't remember the last time we had a good chat, can you?"  
  
Elrohir just shook his head, cursing Erestor with every imprecation he knew. He had just started on the dwarvish ones--his personal favorites as their harsh, gutteral sounds were perfect for swearing, when Glorfindel moved his chair up alongside and smiled down at him, apparently taking his silence for acquiescence. "So, what shall we talk about?"  
  
Elrohir stared at him, his mind suddenly blank even of curses, and his tongue feeling twice its usual size. Oh, Elbereth, he thought desperately, help! A fire, a hailstorm, anything to distract him, but the only sounds to be heard beyond the windows were the faint clink of glasses and the light laughter from the feast.  
  
"So, I hear you're getting quite good with accounts. Erestor says you're a great help to him."  
  
Elrohir breathed a sigh of relief. Accounts, yes, he could talk about those. A nice, safe, boring subject unlikely to bring up any untoward thoughts . . .  
  
"Of course," Glorfindel continued, "I told him that he couldn't expect to monopolize you forever, as you have other talents that should be cultivated. A stint with the guards would do you good, for example, such as your brother just completed. I hear he made a number of friends, and probably learned a good deal, too."  
  
Oh yes, Elrohir thought, and the Valar only knew what he'd taught them . . . certainly he'd been flush with cash since coming back from the borders. Apparently, the guards had not understood the term "card shark."  
  
" . . . settling down."  
  
"What?" Elrohir realized that he'd lost the thread of the conversation somewhere.  
  
"Well, naturally you're too young at the moment for that to be a worry. You've plenty of time to get in some training before some pretty maid ties you to her side."  
  
Elrohir choked, but things only became worse when Glorfindel moved closer to pat him solicitously on the back. "Are you all right there, Elrohir?" Elrohir nodded, afraid that if he opened his mouth to say anything, he'd tell Glorfindel exactly what he thought of the idea of settling down with a nice maid--and what he'd like instead. Something of his thoughts must have shown in his eyes, however, for Glorfindel's expression softened. "Oh, I didn't know it was like that. Who was she, then?"  
  
"What?" Elrohir felt his head spin. This conversation felt like it had lasted forever. Where was Erestor?  
  
"Well, obviously someone upset you." Glorfindel patted him affectionately on the leg. "Don't worry about it, Elrohir, it happens to the best of us."  
  
"Did it ever happen to you?" As soon as he'd said it, Elrohir wished he'd bitten his tongue off instead. This was NOT the type of conversation he needed to be having with Glorfindel. And damn it, why didn't he remove his hand? It felt warm and heavy on his thigh, and was making it impossible for him to think clearly.  
  
Glorfindel squeezed his leg slightly and Elrohir almost choked again. His tutor's attention was apparently somewhere else, however, for his expression was far away as he nodded. "I doubt if there's anyone who hasn't loved, well, less than wisely, at some point."  
  
"Who was she?" Elrohir wondered if there was some way to gag himself before his wayward tongue said anything else. It seemed to have a mind of its own tonight.  
  
"He, actually," Glorfindel remarked absently, before mercifully getting up and walking to the window. Strangely, it still felt as if that warm hand rested on his thigh, Elrohir thought blankly, and then what his tutor had said sunk in. No, he argued with himself, surely he'd heard wrong. He couldn't possibly be that lucky.  
  
"I think it will rain later," Glorfindel commented, looking up at the sky. Elrohir sat immobile, as if glued in his chair.  
  
Listen, he told himself sharply, you're being ridiculous. Even if he DOES prefer males--and you COULD have heard wrong--that doesn't mean he'd want anything to do with you. You're just going to embarrass yourself. So stop it and follow his lead; talk about the weather or accounting some more, anything except . . . "Who was he, then?" Elrohir seriously considered tightening his scarf until he strangled.  
  
Glorfindel shrugged, and did not turn back from the window. Instead, he hitched one thigh onto the sill and seemed content to watch the feast from a distance. "No one I can talk about," he finally answered, after a long pause.  
  
Drop it! Elrohir lectured himself. Do NOT ask . . . "Was it a long time ago?" Auughh!  
  
Glorfindel sighed, and for a while Elrohir thought he might not answer. Then he said, very low, "Not so long, no." There was something very melancholy in his demeanor as he sat there, his shoulders uncharacteristically slumped, that made Elrohir feel all funny inside. He wanted to go and put his arms around him, to smooth the lines in his brow and to say something witty, or even one of Elladan's terrible jokes, just to see him smile . . . He gripped the seat of his chair and held on for dear life. Luckily, although his tongue seemed to have been possessed by some impish entity, at least his body was still under his control. He could not afford any scenes like that.  
  
"I'm sorry. He must be an idiot." Elrohir decided that he was going to get very drunk as soon as Erestor got back.  
  
Glorfindel shot him a surprised look, but seemed to take the comment all right. "You're kind to say so. But I'm afraid . . . I'm somewhat older than he is, you see . . . ," he trailed off, looking glum, and a sudden bolt of anger flashed through Elrohir. Who could possibly be stupid enough to turn down Glorfindel? Could it be one of the young guards? Perhaps an elf not much older than himself? He could feel his stomach tightening in response to the very idea that someone, probably someone he knew, had captured Glorfindel's heart and then been moronic enough to throw it away. While he would cherish it forever, he thought passionately.  
  
"Well, whoever it is, he's an utter fool!" Elrohir didn't even try to choke back his response that time. He was too incensed to care what he said. "I can't imagine anyone turning you down!"  
  
Glorfindel looked surprised, and then to Elrohir's stunned amazement, he blushed. At first Elrohir thought it was a trick of the light, but no, his companion's cheeks were definitely rosier. Elrohir felt warm and almost dizzyingly happy at the thought that he had somehow made Glorfindel so pleased. Just as he was about to speak again, however, the door behind him opened, almost knocking him from his chair.  
  
"Oh, my apologies, Elrohir." Erestor peered into the room and grinned at him. "You did take me literally, didn't you? Just as well not to trust him--he's tricky."  
  
"Well, you won't find this one easily, Glorfindel!," Ada commented, looking over Erestor's shoulder. "We've hidden it in a fiendishly clever spot, if I do say so. Now come to the feast you two, before it's all gone. Those Lorien elves know how to eat."  
  
Elrohir followed the two elda out of the room and down the hall, but he wasn't listening to their usual banter. All he could see was the curiously vulnerable look that had appeared on Glorfindel's face when he had complemented him. Turning with another question hovering on his lips, Elrohir was surprised to see only an empty corridor behind him. Glorfindel was no where in sight.  
  
TBC 


	3. Three

Title: Hunter and Prey, 3/? Author: Rune Dancer, runedancer@hotmail.com Rating: R Pairing: That would be telling. Disclaimer: I own nothing, Tolkien is God, yadda, yadda. Warnings: Slash. Archiving: Anyone who wants it, just let me know. A/N: This has nothing to do with my previous Unspoken story arc, although some of the characterizations are eerily similar. Updates will be haphazard, but I promise to finish it.  
  
* * *  
  
"All right, all right. Settle down, you lot." Erestor looked, Glorfindel thought sourly, quite pleased with himself in the role of hunt master, and had gone so far as to dress the part in carefully tailored buckskins. Of course, the effect was rather ruined by the three- inch heels on his highly polished boots and the cascading cravat on his green silk shirt, but he seemed oblivious to the grins and murmured comments of the guards. He could afford to smile, Glorfindel thought bitterly; it wasn't his reputation on the line. "Now, you all know the rules, I'm sure," Erestor commented, "but there have been a few adjustments this year, so let's just review them, shall we?"  
  
Glorfindel's ears perked up. Adjustments? He hadn't authorized anything of the kind. Trust Erestor to wait until the night before the Hunt to bother mentioning this. He narrowed his eyes at his oldest friend, who was continuing blithely on despite the surprised murmur that filled the Great Hall.  
  
"Now, I want a clean Hunt," Erestor was saying, thwapping his riding crop against one leather-covered thigh for emphasis. Glorfindel refrained from rolling his eyes, but just barely. "There will be no, and I repeat NO, serious injuries this year. You are free to take out the competition, of course--indeed, that's half the fun," he added, grinning wickedly at Glorfindel as he did so. Just you wait Erestor, Glorfindel thought back, while keeping his face carefully neutral. You'll end by wishing you'd bet on me after all. "However," Erestor continued, looking suddenly stern as if for emphasis, "I don't want to see any broken bones, concussions, or other significant injuries in the healing chambers afterwards, or I will start disqualifications!"  
  
There was a discontented murmur throughout the room at this, and Glorfindel wasn't surprised. He had always avoided making such a rule because, first, serious injuries were rare and had never, as far as he knew, been caused deliberately; and second, he had not wanted to offend the assembled players by impugning their honor. Erestor had better watch out tomorrow, he thought, glancing around at several of the flushed faces of the guards. They didn't look too happy with him.  
  
"Now, the basic rules of the Hunt are as usual," Erestor was saying, quite oblivious to the angry looks being directed his way. "There is, somewhere on the grounds or in the forest about Imladris, hidden the twin of this," and he held up one of the old, tattered battle standards from the War of the Last Alliance. It was taller than he was and topped by a worn, gilt crest of a shield covered with stars. There were only two of them left now, the other of Gil-Galad's standards having been destroyed on the battlefield or lost through the years. It was the usual talisman used for the Hunt for that reason, as it would be impossible to fake--Elrond would certainly know.  
  
"The elf who finds it and brings it back successfully to the starting line is the winner. However," and he paused dramatically, although why Glorfindel couldn't imagine. As Erestor had said, all the assembled elves certainly knew the rules. "Each Hunter will also wear one of these on his or her person," and he pulled out a small, jeweled badge on a silken cord, which he waved about in front of them. "In the event that the standard is not found, which has happened by my records a total of 233 times in the last millennium, then the Hunter who brings back the most of these will win." He grinned rather evilly. "How you come by other Hunters' badges is, of course, entirely your affair." Glorfindel saw the uneasy looks being exchanged throughout the Hall and noted that, as always, the tension in the room had just ratcheted up noticeably.  
  
"Any Hunter who loses his badge must return to the start of the course where he or she will be disqualified. The Hunt will end when the prize is returned or after twenty-four hours from the start, whichever comes first. The signal for the Hunters to return will be the usual three horn blast from Imladris' trumpeters. Once you hear it, you have one hour to reach the starting line or be disqualified." Erestor paused to consult a small note tablet at his side. "Oh yes," he muttered, almost too low to hear, "one last thing. Due to a desire to keep the chaos to a minimum, and to insure that no bystanders are accidentally injured as happened last year, we have decided only to allow in the field those persons actually taking part in the Hunt."  
  
Glorfindel winced as a huge wash of protest swept the room, loud enough to actually hurt his ears. No one was happy with this last alteration, it would seem, and he couldn't blame them. It was, of course, possible to get a partial view of the proceedings from the upper stories of the Last Homely House, which was why those residents with the higher balconies usually hosted large parties in their rooms for the more sedentary types, with wine and critical commentary flowing more freely as the day went along. As Hunt Master, Glorfindel had often floated from party to party, many of which rather ran together anyway, giving his judgment on that years' likely winner. This year, of course, he would be in the field, starting at every sound and probably getting pounced on by half of Imladris' enraged guards. Still, he thought with a grin, Erestor might end up having it even worse, as all the frustrated youngsters who would normally have taken to the field to watch their favorites ended up crammed back into the house. He was almost sorry he wouldn't have the chance to see it, as the chaos back here might actually rival that on the field for a change.  
  
* * *  
  
"All right, can we panic now?" Elrohir had grabbed his stunned looking twin and dragged him from the Great Hall before anyone could intercept them. They were presently huddled in a broom closet, not wanting to waste time trying to make for their rooms on the far side of the house.  
  
"I . . . it will be all right . . . I just need to think." Elladan sat on an upturned bucket and stared blindly at the wall. After a long silence, he looked up at his furious twin, who looked like he was contemplating thumping him over the head with a broom handle. "We're in trouble."  
  
"Oh, do you really think so?" The sarcasm fairly dripped from every word. "And why would that be, then? Because neither of us is signed up for the Hunt, perhaps? Because we won't even be allowed in the field tomorrow? Because we now have to grab them tonight and hold them somewhere, somehow, with no advance preparation and the clock ticking away?!" Elrohir kicked the bucket on which his chagrined looking brother was sitting, almost dislodging him onto the floor. "I KNEW something like this would happen! WHY would Erestor do this? I thought he was supposed to be helping!"  
  
"It must have been Ada's decision, although I can't imagine why he would change the rules like this, especially so late. Unless . . . "  
  
"He suspects." Elrohir finished his brother's thought. "Erestor MUST have said something."  
  
"He wouldn't betray us--he wouldn't!," Elladan insisted, seeing his brother's skeptical look. "Listen, he and Ada have some sort of bet going on the outcome of the Hunt. I saw him looking dejected last week and asked him why, and he told me--that's when I enlisted him to help us. He's bet against Glorfindel, and Ada has bet on him. He WOULDN'T betray us, Elrohir, or he'd lose his bet, he knows that!"  
  
"So how do you explain it, then?"  
  
Elladan looked sulky. "How should I know? Maybe he talks in his sleep . . ." He broke off at his brother's confused expression. "Oh come, Elrohir! You can't tell me you didn't know!"  
  
"K-know what?"  
  
Elladan looked shifty. "Nothing, forget I said anything. Listen, there's a simple way out of this--we'll just go sign up for the Hunt. Erestor's Hunt Master, so even if father doesn't like it, he can't very well stop us. Then we'll be in the field as we expected."  
  
"Yes, but what if someone takes our tokens before we can . . . "  
  
"Well, we'll just have to make sure they don't. After all, who knows these woods better than we do? And anyway, we won't be in the field long. All we have to do is stay close to our prey until we can separate them from the pack, then act as planned. This really isn't a serious problem after all; I don't know why I was so worried. Just stunned, I suppose. Anyway," he rose decisively, "I'm going to see Erestor and make sure he signs us up immediately." He clapped Elrohir on the shoulder. "Don't look so glum-- everything will be fine!"  
  
* * *  
  
Elladan's step was jaunty going back to his rooms, for all was back on track. Erestor had apologized profusely once Elladan managed to drag him away from the hoards of new Hunters who had surged forward after finding out that joining up was their only ticket to a front row seat. As he had thought, the change in the rules was Ada's idea, but Erestor swore he couldn't possibly know anything. "Not a word, Elladan--I swear I haven't breathed a word!"  
  
Elladan tended to believe him, as it would certainly not be in Erestor's interest to betray them. Of course, he needn't have done so in so many words. Ada was, after all, one of the best at picking up on non-verbal clues that Elladan had ever seen, and he certainly knew Erestor like a book. He probably didn't know anything for certain, but had noticed enough to make him suspicious and to cause him to throw a spanner in the works. But all for nothing, Elladan thought smugly, for Erestor had immediately signed he and Elrohir up as Hunters, thus bringing everything back into equilibrium again. Now all he had to do was get a good night's rest so as to be on top form tomorrow . . .  
  
"Well, hello traitor. We wondered when you'd decide to return." Elladan heard the door to his room click shut behind him just as Rumil's voice rang out through the dark chamber.  
  
"Rumil, is that you?" A taper flared a second later, illuminating the furious features of Haldir's younger brother. Elladan didn't need to turn around to know that it was Orophin guarding the only exit.  
  
"Of course it's me--don't tell me you didn't expect this visit?"  
  
"Er, no, actually. Shouldn't you be off resting before the big event?"  
  
"Shouldn't I be resting?," Rumil's voice had taken on a high, mocking quality. "Yes, I'm sure you'd like that, wouldn't you? Do you hear, Orophin? He thinks we ought to toddle off to our chambers like good little elflings, and wait for him to put his so clever plan into effect tomorrow." Elladan heard what could only be described as a growl from behind him.  
  
"Is-is there a problem here?," he asked, spreading his hands beseechingly to Rumil, who, despite his obvious anger, had at least retained the power of actual speech. "Because I'm sure it's all just a misunderstanding."  
  
Elladan felt a large, warm body come up behind him, while Rumil moved closer to bracket him from the front. "Oh? Just a misunderstanding? No," he said thoughtfully, "I think miscalculation would be more apt, wouldn't it, Orophin?" Another growl sounded in Elladan's ear, causing him to flinch slightly. "You see, dear traitor, you should have made certain that Lord Erestor didn't reveal your little secret so soon. He could have made the announcement tomorrow just before we all take the field, and that might have caught us off guard enough for your plan to have had a chance at success. But now," and he smiled gently into Elladan's surprised face, "we have all night to think up what to do with you, don't we?"  
  
"You'll wish you had never tried to use us, Peredhil," came Orophin's voice from behind him, and the level of malice in it made Elladan wish that he'd revert to growls again.  
  
"Use you?," Elladan forced a laugh. He was relieved to hear that it sounded almost genuine. "No, no. You are having me on, aren't you? We're on the same side here."  
  
"Oh, are we? Well, refresh my poor memory then, would you?," Rumil asked, in mock sincerity. "Because I was under the distinct impression that the only thing you wanted from my brother was to win that stupid bet, which, I might add, I just asked him about and--surprise--he never heard of it!"  
  
"W-what?"  
  
"Oh, yes, didn't have any idea what I was talking about. And that, my dear Elladan, taken together with the fact that you, it seems, will now be competing tomorrow yourself, and everything begins to look rather different, doesn't it?"  
  
"You planned to use us to help you remove Haldir--your biggest competitor-- and clear the way for an easy Imladris win," Orophin chimed in, his voice ruffling the hair about Elladan's ears.  
  
"Don't bother to deny it!," Rumil added, seeing Elladan's stunned look. "It wouldn't surprise me to find out that you've arranged something equally evil for poor Glorfindel! Does Legolas know what a lucky escape he had? Tell me," and Rumil sidled even closer, to the point that their noses were less than an inch apart, "do you plan to take the prize for yourself, Peredhil? Are you going to betray your own guards as well as us?"  
  
Elladan was thinking quickly, but he had to admit that it looked bad. He hadn't taken the time before to view Erestor's announcement from the Lorien perspective, which obviously had been a mistake. Why Haldir didn't remember their bet, however, was another issue all together, and an even more worrying one. Of course, they had been drinking rather heavily at the time, but as he remembered everything quite well, he couldn't imagine why Haldir did not. Unless he was lying to try and get out of it, but that did not seem his style. And come to think of it, he hadn't seemed to remember Elladan very well when they'd spoken at the welcoming banquet, although Elladan had assumed that he was merely being funny. But maybe not. And that, of course, would ruin everything, for Elladan really had no interest whatsoever in who won the bleeding prize. The only prize he was after was something quite different.  
  
"Look, my dear friends, really," he spread his hands in supplication and put on his most appealing face. "You must believe me--I had no idea that Erestor was about to make such a change to the rules. I swear to you that my only interest in the proceedings is as I outlined to you. I signed up for the Hunt solely because it was the only way to arrange to be in the field so as to put our plan into operation. As to why Haldir does not remember our bet, why," he shrugged, "I cannot tell you as I have no idea. We were drinking at the time, it is true, but I cannot believe that such an elf as Haldir could have been so affected by a few bottles of wine. They did not interfere with my memory, I assure you."  
  
Rumil looked suddenly thoughtful, and Orophin stepped back slightly, allowing cool air to touch Elladan's back, which, he then realized, was drenched with sweat. "Haldir has, er, a slight problem with wine," Rumil said musingly. "He always has been silly about it--we often tease him because, of course, so little else affects him."  
  
Elladan nodded, wanting to keep them on his side. "Yes, well, that explains it, doesn't it? He just can't remember."  
  
Rumil eyed him speculatively. "But doesn't that rather ruin your plans, then?"  
  
Elladan nodded slowly; he had a point. "It does, actually. Naturally I had assumed . . . "  
  
"Oh, but we can fix that," Orophin piped up, clapping him between his damp shoulder blades.  
  
"How?"  
  
"We'll just go wake him up."  
  
* * *  
  
Haldir was having a very nice dream. It involved, among other things, a waterfall, a picnic lunch and a very attractive youth who wasn't wearing much. They had just reached the dessert phase, and Haldir was eyeing his companion and the bowl of strawberries in cream with rather lascivious intent, when he was abruptly snapped back to reality. A split second later his attacker was face down on the bed, with Haldir's knee pressing painfully into his lower back. It wasn't until he heard Rumil's amused laughter from behind him that he let up slightly on his captive.  
  
"And that, dear Elladan, is why we let you wake him," Rumil chortled.  
  
"What is the idea?" Haldir glared at his two brothers, who were lounging by the door to his rooms with identical amused grins on their faces.  
  
"We need to talk to you, brother," Rumil replied, "or, rather, Elladan needs to do so, don't you Elladan?"  
  
"Mmmphh."  
  
Haldir realized that, despite the fact that he had lessened his hold, Elrond's eldest was still pressed somewhat forcefully down into the mattress, and quickly removed himself. Elladan flopped over onto his back, gasping for breath and apparently unable to speak.  
  
"Oh very well," Rumil said, with an exaggerated sigh, "I guess I can do it. You see Haldir," he commented, moving forward with an expression of barely withheld glee, "It seems that you've forgotten a little something. And since tomorrow is the big day, we thought that it was only fair to remind you in advance."  
  
Haldir looked from his two rascally brothers to the still gasping Elladan with considerable suspicion. "Forgotten what?," he asked slowly, wondering what new trick this might be. Of course, he knew they didn't want him to win, but if they thought that losing him a bit of sleep was going to make a difference, they were in for a considerable surprise.  
  
"Oh, merely that, if you don't manage to win tomorrow, big brother, there is a little something you owe Elladan, who is betting against you, you see. It all has to do with some wager you made at last year's closing feast, after downing a bit too much of Lord Elrond's good wine, apparently."  
  
Haldir glanced at Elladan in time to see a dull red flush spread over his handsome features, but the younger elf raised his chin defiantly nonetheless. "And what, pray tell, do you get if I lose?," Haldir asked him. After a few second's hesitation, Elladan told him.  
  
The resulting roar of outrage woke most of the occupants of the house who had retired and frightened many of the others. However, a party of Imladris' guards, who had met in the courtyard for one last drink before going to bed, were the only ones who witnessed the opening sortie of what would be a most memorable Hunt. A startled looking Elladan came flying out the window of a second floor chamber a few second's later, his formal dinner robes rippling out behind him. He managed to grab the edge of the slanted roof and ended up making a rather fine landing a few yards from them. But before they could clap in appreciation or he could collect himself, two more figures came hurtling through the air and landed rather heavily on top of him. After a few confused moments, the three managed to separate themselves and, with much cursing and muttered comments the guards couldn't quite make out, hobbled back towards the house. The guards grinned at each other, and clinked glasses. Oh yes, the Hunt was on.  
  
TBC 


	4. Four

Title: Hunter and Prey, 4/? Author: Rune Dancer, runedancer@hotmail.com Rating: R Pairing: That would be telling. Disclaimer: I own nothing, Tolkien is God, yadda, yadda. Warnings: Slash. Archiving: Anyone who wants it, just let me know. A/N: This has nothing to do with my previous Unspoken story arc, although some of the characterizations are eerily similar. Updates will be haphazard, but I promise to finish it.  
  
* * *  
  
Elrohir glanced over the long line of Hunters to the spot where Glorfindel was standing. He looked, if anything, rather bored. Elrohir had never felt less so himself, and could feel his palms sweat as he nervously tugged at the grey ribbon around his neck from which his small token dangled. Like the other Imladris' contestants, his had a silver center stone; the Mirkwood contingent had a green one and Lorien's was gold. Glancing about, he was very glad that he didn't have to stay in the field for long, for some of the other Hunters were looking at him almost hungrily. He'd forgotten just how large some of the military types were, and no doubt they were thinking that relieving him of his token would be an easy way to warm up.  
  
One who was standing fairly close--a silvan from Lorien--even grinned at him, before dropping his eyes to the token he obviously expected soon to be his. Well, nothing doing. Elrohir wasn't going to leave the Hunt in shame and have his father, currently seated on an upper balcony of the house with a beaming grin on his face, look at him in disgust as he was disqualified. No, he might not be planning to win, but he couldn't afford to lose either. He intended to make sure than he and Glorfindel were still in the field when the final call sounded, and thus keep their honor intact. Maybe, he thought speculatively, it wouldn't hurt to insure that the two of them had also amassed a few tokens before he took them out of things, so to speak.  
  
"All right, everyone get ready!" Erestor shot Elrohir a significant look as he held up a bright red handkerchief and waved it around. "When the trumpets sound, the field is open. Good luck to you all!" A second later, he dropped the handkerchief and three silver trumpets sent their song flying over the Hunter's heads. Immediately, all hell broke loose in the previously orderly lineup. Some of the Hunters--mostly the smaller ones-- sprinted full out for the tree line, apparently having decided that finding the prize first was their only chance to win. Elrohir had passed some of these the night before on his way to bed, huddled together in a stairwell discussing in hushed tones the various places where they were "sure" the standard had been hidden. He knew that any of the more obvious guesses were almost certainly duds, as his father had hidden the prize this year and his thought processes were nothing if not subtle.  
  
Elrohir suddenly noticed that many of the Hunters were not running off to begin their search for the standard, but were employing other tactics. As usual, some groups were working in packs to prey on their fellows; once a large number of the weaker contestants had been eliminated, they would turn on each other. This year, however, some sort of agreement seemed to have been reached by the Imladris' guards, who were letting the Lorien and Mirkwood groups battle it out between them--with the result that thirty or so elves had lost their tokens within five minutes of the Hunt's start. Most of these, however, were the novices who had hurriedly joined the night before after Erestor's pronouncement; it looked like they'd be watching things from the house after all. At least they don't have far to walk back, Elrohir thought, dodging past the grasping arms of one of the Mirkwood hunters, then ducking under those of the determined looking Silvan. The two, he saw happily, ended up running into each other, with the Mirkwood Hunter then managing to tug the other's token over his head, much to the Silvan's outrage.  
  
Nimble in a way that the larger Hunters were not, Elrohir threaded his way through the battles happening all around him toward where Glorfindel still stood. It was only as he drew near that he realized just why Imladris' guards were making almost no effort to enter the main fray; they obviously had a different priority. As Elrohir watched, a large circle of them closed in on Glorfindel, who was looking remarkably unconcerned about that fact. Elrohir was torn; on the one hand, he had promised to keep Glorfindel from winning, and so technically should stand aside and let the guards do his work for him. On the other hand, however, something inside him rebelled at the thought of seeing his mentor disqualified--which had never been part of the plan--and the sight of so many against one enraged him. Anyway, he argued with himself, had he and Erestor spent so much time thinking up the perfect solution only to have the guards make it irrelevant through the use of blunt force?  
  
Before he really thought about what he was doing, Elrohir slipped through the steadily shrinking circle and pelted towards Glorfindel. He wasn't sure what he could do, really, as they were still seriously outnumbered, but just knew that he wanted to be with him. Before he could say anything, however, Glorfindel grabbed his arm and hissed at him to go back. "Now, Elrohir, get out of here! You don't understand!"  
  
Elrohir merely shook his head dumbly, before a billowing cloud of grey-blue smoke unexpectedly enveloped the two of them, obscuring everything in the surrounding area from view. He only knew that Glorfindel still had hold of his arm because he could feel strong fingers pressing into his flesh; he couldn't see anything, nor could he speak. He heard shouts and curses all around him, but couldn't have added to them even had he wanted to, as he had accidentally inhaled a large amount of the smoke and was currently choking on it.  
  
He felt Glorfindel tug him off to the side somewhere, and he followed blindly, with eyes watering and choking gasps coming from his throat. He could vaguely tell when they left the cloud behind, for things suddenly became lighter, but his eyes didn't seem to want to focus properly and he was half bent over, trying desperately to clear his lungs of the noxious fumes. "Run!," Glorfindel shouted at his ear, then dragged him forward at such a quick pace that Elrohir would have had trouble keeping up even under normal circumstances. He tried to protest as they pelted along, to explain that he couldn't see and was half incapacitated, but he still could not manage to draw a deep breath or to speak. Finally, after what felt like an age, they slowed down, and Elrohir could hear the faint, merry tinkle of a brook somewhere nearby.  
  
"Here," he heard Glorfindel say from above as he was forced to his knees. A wet cloth was laid over his eyes, which immediately stopped them from stinging. A few seconds later and a container of some sort was held to his lips and Elrohir gratefully took a long drink of clear, cool water. Oh, yes, this was bliss. "Is that better?"  
  
"Much," Elrohir managed to say and, removing the cloth from his eyes, found that he could actually see again. Things were still a bit blurry, but he rather thought that another rinsing should take care of that.  
  
"Good." Elrohir looked up, not expecting from the mild tone to see the look of rage that had suffused his tutor's face. "Because you are now going to tell me just what in Mandos you thought you were doing, or I'll take this," and Glorfindel's hand closed over his token, "right now and send you back to the house with the other elflings."  
  
Elrohir smiled weakly. Familiar territory, this. It seemed that he was in trouble yet again.  
  
* * *  
  
Haldir had been so tense for so long, that hearing the trumpets sound was almost a relief. Until, that was, he realized just how many hungry sets of eyes were focused on him. As last year's winner he had, of course, expected to be the chief target, but it was still a bit unnerving. He had a split second to reflect in gratitude that weapons were not allowed in the hunt, as otherwise he'd have certainly been pinned to the ground by at least a dozen arrows by now, before they were on him.  
  
"This way!," the cry rang out just as two huge Mirkwood types, neither of which he knew, converged on him from different angles. He ignored the hand that was waving encouragingly at him from the sideline--for he well knew that no one in this teeming mass was his friend--and darted to the left. His pursuers followed, with one of them making a gesture at someone behind him. A brunette female dressed in Mirkwood attire grabbed him around the throat from behind, but he managed to flip her over his head and into the path of one of the bruisers in front of him. She screamed in outrage and turned, lithe as a cat, in what looked like midair. He ducked a split second before she reached him again and she went sailing over his head, but not before he'd deftly removed the green token from around her neck.  
  
After that, things became so confused that Haldir almost ceased to consciously think at all, and just concentrated on ducking, spinning and, in a few cases, leaping over his opponents' heads in an effort to clear the melee. He didn't have time for this, not this year, he thought in irritation, as he swatted away another attempt to grab his token. Grasping the would-be thief's arm, he sent him careening into two of the Galadrim, thus opening a hole in the jostling crowd. Not wasting any time, he tore past the battling pairs and ran for the forest line, well aware that several Hunters had peeled away from the pack in pursuit.  
  
Haldir jumped into the nearest tree and, when he felt a slight shudder in its limbs caused by a Hunter climbing up behind him, swung around and caught his pursuer with a foot to the chest. The Galadrim was knocked completely out of the tree, but somersaulted gracefully to the earth without noticeable injury. He immediate began to climb back up, but Haldir's mocking laughter stopped him.  
  
"Are you sure you want to do that, Verron?," he asked, dangling the Hunter's token from his hand. "It's against the rules you know!"  
  
Verron's free hand scrabbled at his chest, unable to believe that it was gone, then he glared upwards. "How did you do that? Your hands weren't anywhere near me!"  
  
"Ahh, my friend," Haldir tutted slightly, "I am sorry but I don't have time to give lessons at the moment. Perhaps we can talk before next year," and turning, he vaulted into another tree as Verron stared disbelievingly after him. Haldir waited until he was well out of sight before tossing aside a long, thin stick. He'd used it to relieve his fellow guard of his ornament as he'd climbed up the tree. He then tucked the little disk into his pouch with the five others he'd managed to collect so far, and dropped lightly to the ground.  
  
He looked about, but no one else seemed to have followed. That made him somewhat nervous, as he could have sworn that he'd heard two pairs of feet pounding after him. Yet he would certainly hear anyone who tried to pursue; dry leaves covered most surfaces, piling in dips and gullies in masses several feet deep in spots and sending an unmistakable warning of anyone's approach. He had heard many elves complaining about this in the last week, but Haldir himself preferred it. His hearing was considered excellent, even for an elf, so there wasn't much chance that anyone was going to be sneaking up on him. And he was not even slightly interested in pursuing them. No, for that foolish, infuriating Elladan had done him the favor of slipping that clue as to the standard's whereabouts, giving him an advantage over the rest of the field this year. Let the rest of them waste their time collecting tokens. None of that would matter when he brought the standard back.  
  
Stopping himself from whistling only by the exertion of considerable willpower, Haldir struck off jauntily across the forest. It had been more than four hundred years since anyone had managed to win the prize two years in a row, but he was going to break the record, he was sure of it. Lost in happy thoughts, he never noticed the silent shadow that, after giving him an ample head start, drifted into the woods behind him.  
  
* * *  
  
Legolas accepted a refill from Lord Elrond and sipped it daintily as he watched Haldir dart across the open space towards the tree line. Legolas was rather pleased that he had managed to elude the Hunters so far. Although he was uncomfortable with the thought of Haldir winning again, especially after all the crowing he'd done after last year's victory, he also much preferred a good Hunt to a mediocre one and Haldir was always such fun. Remarking on that fact to Lord Elrond, he saw the elf's dark eyes crinkle in that attractive way of his as a smile spread across his face.  
  
"You actually intend doing nothing, then," he teased. "Except sitting here and enjoying the show while the others win all the glory?"  
  
Legolas grinned, and took another sip of his wine. It was an excellent vintage, but he was determined to go easy on it nonetheless. He had certainly had enough proof of the dangers of becoming too inebriated in this house. "But, my dear Lord Elrond!," he protested prettily, "To do otherwise would be to go against my father's strict instructions!"  
  
"And being here at all does not?"  
  
Legolas feigned shock. "Are you insinuating that you'd tell?"  
  
Elrond settled back in his chair. "Most certainly not. I greatly enjoy your presence, Legolas, as you know. I would hardly do anything to help remove it."  
  
Legolas smirked and glanced over the railing to where Erestor was being jostled around by the crowd of Hunters still trapped near the starting point. It looked a great deal like some of the pushing, shoving and tripping he was undergoing was deliberate. "Have you convinced him yet?," Legolas murmured, so quietly that the half dozen elves seated behind them noticed nothing.  
  
Elrond moved slightly forward, seemingly enthralled by the all out brawl going on below. "It's as we planned," he murmured into his wine goblet. "As long as Glorfindel wins . . . "  
  
Legolas drained the rest of his glass and sat it down on a nearby table with a purposeful thump. Stretching, he rose lightly to his feet. "Well, Lord Elrond," he said, back to his normal tones, "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll just go and mingle down below."  
  
Elrond looked up at him, a slight smile tugging at his lips. "You'd have a much better view from here," he protested.  
  
Legolas glanced out onto the field to see Glorfindel and Elrohir disappear into a haze of battle smoke. He supposed that, technically, that didn't count as a weapon and so had to be allowed. Clever of Glorfindel to have thought of it; it made one wonder what else might be up his sleeve. He glanced down at Elrond, whose long form was draped elegantly over his chair. The older elf obviously had full faith in his seneschal, and intended to enjoy the day, confident in his abilities to win his bet for him. Legolas, however, was too restless to take that option, and besides, it wasn't as if the other side wasn't cheating for all it was worth. He had seen Erestor closeted with several dozen of the guards after his speech the night before, and recognized a number of them in the bemused looking circle presently blindly feeling its way across the field amidst clouds of noxious fumes. It wasn't the guards who particularly worried him, however.  
  
His eyes narrowed as they followed the stumbling figure of Elrohir as he and Glorfindel took advantage of the guards' confusion to make a run for the trees. When he had first agreed to help Elladan in his absurd plan to get his brother and Imladris' seneschal together, Legolas had discounted the elfling's abilities, assuming that, as he told Elladan, Glorfindel would surely have him tied to a tree within a few minutes if he tried to interfere with him. "It isn't as if I don't want to help, melethryn," he had protested, "but I don't see how this is supposed to work. If you want them to spend time together, lock them in a room and put a guard--or possibly five or six--on the door. I simply don't understand how this is supposed to help."  
  
Elladan had shaken his head and propped his feet up on Legolas' hassock. "You don't know my brother, gwador," he'd replied. "He tenses up around Glorfindel to the point that he can barely carry on a decent conversation." He looked disgusted for a moment, then laughed. "I've tried everything, you know--all year I've worked my poor fingers to the bone trying to get those two together, but nothing works. If Glorfindel enters a room, Elrohir is just leaving it. If I get injured and can't ride out to oversee the borders, Elrohir manages to find someone to do it--but never himself! If I manage to move the seating arrangement around so that they are stuck next to each other at every meal, they both resolutely talk to their neighbor on the other side or across from them--never to each other! It is enough to drive a person completely mad!"  
  
"But, are you entirely sure that Elrohir really is taken with him? It doesn't sound much like it to me."  
  
"I'm sure." Elladan had sounded certain. "I know my brother, and trust me, he's just as helplessly attracted to Glorfindel as vice versa, but neither of them have the sense to see it!"  
  
"That still doesn't explain how my giving my place up to Glorfindel in this year's hunt is going to aid your hopes."  
  
"It will help, my dear Legolas, because Elrohir is one of the most stubborn elves I've ever known. Once given a task, he'll stick to it no matter what- -and this task will throw he and Glorfindel together for the better part of twenty-four hours. If they can't figure out that they're made for each other in that length of time, then I wash my hands of them."  
  
"If Elrohir can manage not to get left up a tree," Legolas had murmured.  
  
Elladan smirked. "Trust me, my friend, you don't know my brother. I assure you that he is far more skillful than he looks."  
  
Which was, of course, exactly what was worrying Legolas now. Within a scant few minutes, not only had Elrohir dodged at least six different attempts on his token, one of them by a warrior Legolas knew to be among the most skillful in Mirkwood, but had also managed to get towed off the field by Glorfindel himself, who would now probably consider him his charge seeing as how he'd half blinded him with battle smoke. It wouldn't surprise Legolas at all if Glorfindel even decided to team up with Elrohir, without knowing what the little miscreant intended, thus giving him the perfect opportunity to lead him into whatever trap Erestor had helped to create.  
  
Legolas looked down again to see Erestor swatting fussily at the hands and elbows that kept "accidentally" bumping him. Oh, yes, lovely, crafty Erestor had had well over a week to make all kinds of plans, and his position as Hunt Master gave him the added advantage of being able to rule virtually anything legal. So no, Legolas could not say that he shared Elrond's optimism.  
  
Yet Legolas had a pressing need for Glorfindel to win, one he hadn't bothered to mention to Elladan. After all, Elrond's proposition had been made--to Legolas' delighted surprise--after he had fulfilled his bargain with Elladan by giving up his place in the hunt. He was, therefore, perfectly within his rights to do whatever he could to see that Glorfindel won. And, he reminded his conscience, he had never promised Elladan not to interfere, and the prize for managing Glorfindel's victory was just too high to refuse.  
  
"Legolas," Elrond commented gently, bringing him back to the present, "I believe you're blocking the view."  
  
Legolas turned with a smile to the elves behind him, and sketched them a little bow. "My apologies," he said lightly, "and to you as well my Lord. If you will excuse me? I think I'll just go . . . get a bit of exercise."  
  
He departed the royal box with Elrond's amused laughter still echoing in his ears. Legolas grinned as he lightly skipped down the main staircase. This ought to be fun.  
  
TBC 


	5. Five

Title: Hunter and Prey, 5/? Author: Rune Dancer, runedancer@hotmail.com Rating: R Pairing: That would be telling. Disclaimer: I own nothing, Tolkien is God, yadda, yadda. Warnings: Slash. Archiving: Anyone who wants it, just let me know. A/N: This has nothing to do with my previous Unspoken story arc, although some of the characterizations are eerily similar. Updates will be haphazard, but I promise to finish it.  
  
* * *  
  
Elladan paused in the underbrush, waiting silently while several Galadrim passed within feet of his location. The main body of the Hunt must have moved into the woods by now, for he'd seen no fewer than twelve Hunters of different types in the last half hour. Haldir, however, had managed to avoid all of them handily, which rather impressed Elladan. He'd been confident of his own ability to stay hidden; although Imladris' guards knew the border regions like the back of their hands, they were largely unfamiliar with the area around the house, and the Mirkwood and Lorien Hunters were in completely unknown territory--yet he had grown up playing in these woods. He was surprised that Haldir was able to make his way so easily, however, almost as if the forest itself was helping him. Which it had better not be, he sternly informed a nearby tree, which managed to look as innocent as a tree could as it fervently denied the accusation. You'd better be telling the truth, he warned it silently, but couldn't help a brief grin at the thought that the sexy Galadrim had managed to subvert even the foliage of Imladris. I didn't stand a chance, did I, Elladan mused.  
  
Despite his charm and skill, however, Haldir was not perfect, for Elladan noticed with glee that he was doing exactly as expected and heading straight for the falls. When Elladan had planted his little clue the week before, he had counted on Haldir remembering it and deciding that his best bet for another win was to focus on the standard. After his previous victory, everyone would be looking to eliminate him, thus dropping his chances of survival if he concentrated on gathering tokens. Finding the standard would, however, obviate that necessity, and so Elladan watched as Haldir began a systematic check of the waterfalls, edging ever closer to the place he so desired him to be.  
  
In a way, Elladan almost regretted having to arrange things this way, as he admired Haldir's uncommon skill, and would have liked to see if he could manage a second win if given a fair chance to do so. However, he was not charitable enough to permit any such thing when it meant allowing the gorgeous Galadrim to slip through his fingers yet again. Elladan had been smitten with the silvan guard since he'd first seen him a decade before. Haldir's regular missions for Lord Celeborn had insured that he was rarely able to take part in the Hunt, and although he'd participated a few times as Elladan was growing up, it had not been until he almost won the thing a decade before that he'd caught Elladan's eye.  
  
Elladan sighed when he thought of the futile pursuit that had followed. The problem was that the Lorien faction usually only arrived a week prior to the game, and Haldir was completely focused on his participation that whole time. Unlike some of the others, who used the opportunity to flirt, drink and dance their way through the intervening days, Haldir could not be bothered with anything except the Hunt itself. Elladan had tried everything to gain his attention, but to no avail. Provocative outfits were useless, as Haldir didn't even notice them. Innuendos, likewise, went unheard by one whose complete attention was taken in formulating his battle strategy. Even a blatantly worded offer two years ago had received the humiliating reply of a vague look and a, "maybe later, Elrohir," infuriating Elladan who, despite what everyone said to the contrary, was not a copy of his brother. It had been after that that he decided more drastic measures were called for.  
  
The difficulty lay in the fact that the Lorien guards left the day after the Hunt each year, giving Elladan very little time with Haldir when he was not focused on the game. He'd therefore immediately latched onto him after his win the year before, taking advantage of the fact that Haldir was very happy to talk about each and every move he'd made on the way to victory to anyone who would listen. After several hours and a couple of bottles of his father's best wine, Elladan had finally received the opening for which he'd waited so long.  
  
"But I will win again next year, too," a rather confused looking Haldir had told him, blinking blearily in his general direction. "So you're bound to lose."  
  
"Then you should have no trouble agreeing, should you?," Elladan had reasoned, with his best "trust me, I'm your friend" smile. In the end, Haldir had done exactly that, just before he passed out and had to be carried off to his rooms by a group of Galadrim. Elladan had been ecstatic, and fairly danced back to his own chambers. True, it was frustrating to have to wait yet another year for his prize, but then, Haldir of Lorien in his bed for a night was worth waiting for. Yet it was also something, he mused, as Haldir finished his exploration of the Chiming Falls and moved on, that he had yet to earn. Slipping through the woods with the silence acquired from years of sneaking up on his brother, Elladan followed his prey toward Rainbow falls, and the surprise he'd carefully arranged for him there.  
  
* * *  
  
Elrohir trailed after Glorfindel along an almost indistinguishable path through the undergrowth, wondering as he did so just how to steer him towards Erestor's trap without it looking too obvious. He'd already overcome one hurdle by persuading him to take him along, despite the fact that Glorfindel had been furious with him for swallowing so much of the smoke. "You went through training--you know better! You are supposed to hold your breath when it comes at you, not gulp it down!" Elrohir had let the angry words slide off him, mainly because he was pleased to note that Glorfindel had obviously been concerned for him.  
  
The really tricky part of his task was still ahead, however, Elrohir reminded himself. Somehow, he had to keep Glorfindel from knowing that he was a part of Erestor's plan, for he didn't even want to think of the consequences otherwise. And, although their plotting had seemed at least feasible in the secretary's rooms in the palace, it was much less so now.  
  
Elrohir was so lost in his thoughts that he bumped into Glorfindel, who had stopped suddenly in the middle of the path. He received an impatient look for his clumsiness, but nothing more as they were both concentrating on the distant sound of a few leaves crunching under a light tread. Without any need to speak, they both melted into the shadows under the trees, careful to tread only on tufts of grass as they did so. A few moments later, a party of Galadrim came by, obviously still hunting as a pack, but making surprisingly little sound considering that there were five altogether. Elrohir had assumed that Glorfindel would let them pass by and had taken to the shadows only to avoid being seen. It was with considerable surprise, then, that he witnessed his companion tense as they drew level, then launch himself out of the bushes at them.  
  
It took Elrohir a few seconds to join the fray, so startled was he by the seneschal's actions, but when one of the Galadrim managed to get into a position to flank Glorfindel, Elrohir acted without thinking. Hooking a foot about the silvan's legs, he toppled him into a ditch beside the path, then grabbed his token before he could get his feet under him again. By that time, Glorfindel had disposed of the other four. All five staggered off muttering imprecations a few moments later, their pride more bruised than their bodies and their tokens left behind.  
  
Elrohir stared at the pretty gold stone in his trophy with a feeling of pleased accomplishment. He hadn't actually planned it this way, but as he'd thought back at the starting line, a few tokens would at least make he and Glorfindel look better to the guards later on. Besides, he couldn't deny that it had been fun.  
  
He looked up to find Glorfindel regarding him with an expression of tolerant amusement. "Enjoying yourself, Elrohir?" He nodded in response, having, as usual, a problem articulating much in Glorfindel's presence. This was much better than that nightmare conversation a week ago, however, for at least this way Glorfindel had something to concentrate on other than him, and so he could relax a little. Looking about at the blue sky overhead and at the smiling, carefree face of his companion, Elrohir could only wish that this day could go on forever. He felt wonderfully light and almost giddily happy, and wondered when he'd get another chance to spend this much time with his old tutor in future. Probably never, he suddenly realized, as, under different circumstances, he could hardly take the risk.  
  
As they started back down the path, Elrohir wondered if it really mattered that he lead Glorfindel towards the trap immediately. After all, he'd only promised to keep him from winning; nothing had been said about how or when he did so. Erestor had apparently assumed that he'd want to get it over with as soon as possible, but then, it really would make more sense to drag things out. If he had helped Glorfindel for the better part of the hunt, wouldn't he suspect him less of having anything to do with his entrapment later? Yes, Elrohir thought happily, that was definitely the smart move, and it would also allow them to amass a large number of tokens, and so look at least reasonably competent even when they ended up losing. Still, it was damned annoying that he'd agreed to help Elladan out with this; remembering how easily Glorfindel had handled the Galadrim, he felt sure they could win otherwise. He laughed at the thought of Elladan's face if they came back with the prize, and barely managed to muffle his reaction behind a hand before anyone could hear. Glorfindel noticed, however, and grinned happily at him while ruffling his hair. "We're going to take the prize, Elrohir," he whispered confidently, "I can feel it!"  
  
Elrohir fairly skipped down the path after him, pushing aside his guilty feelings for the moment. He'd worry about all that later. For now, he just wanted to be happy for a little while. What a wonderful day this was turning out to be!  
  
* * *  
  
The rushing sound of water obscured everything else as Elladan slipped through the rocky pass leading into the cave under the falls. It had been a favorite playground for him as an elfling, and he and Elrohir had spent many hours there replaying his father's discovery in a similar cave so long ago, or just eluding the guards who'd been sent to round them up for dinner. Other elves knew of its existence, of course, but none of them were among the younger generation, as Elladan and Elrohir had considered it their private preserve and had told no one. Since the Hunters were almost exclusively drawn from the younger set, he thought that its location was probably safe, and of course, there was little chance of a Lorien or Mirkwood contestant figuring out that it was here. Not that it mattered, Elladan thought with a grin--were any of the other Hunters to stumble in here and find Haldir, it was extremely unlikely that their impulse would be to let last years' champion loose.  
  
Elladan paused before rounding the final turn in the short, rocky tunnel that led into the main cavern. Victory, especially one so long postponed, was very sweet, and should be savored. After a moment, Elladan took a steadying breath, for Haldir was NOT going to be pleasant about this, and stepped into the dimness. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust, and then he just stared. Two things were immediately apparent: Haldir had managed to elude the trap he'd set for him, whether by chance or design Elladan wasn't sure, and he had the standard in his hand.  
  
Elladan boggled at it, his mind unwilling to accept what he was seeing. What was it doing here? He had, of course, lied to Haldir about having been the one to hide it. Glorfindel usually did the honors as Hunt Master, but, as he was competing this year, other arrangements had had to be made and Ada had done it. Elladan had only told Haldir what he had in the hopes of luring him here, where he'd be trapped until the Hunt was safely over and Elladan had won the bet. He had never in his wildest dreams thought that Ada might choose this very spot in which to hide the prize, thus insuring that Elladan had as good as handed Haldir a victory.  
  
He must have moved slightly, or perhaps Haldir had simply finished admiring his prize, for he glanced up and spotted Elladan. For a few seconds they merely looked at each other, then Haldir lunged. Elladan wasn't sure if he was trying to thank him, kill him, or merely get past him, but one thing was sure, Haldir could not be allowed to get back to the starting line with the standard. Technically, he hadn't won until he crossed that line, and Elladan had no intention of letting that happen. Diving for Haldir's legs, Elladan managed to get a grip on one ankle and he held on for dear life. Haldir hobbled towards the cave entrance, viciously kicking at Elladan all the while, but just as he'd almost broken free, he suddenly stopped.  
  
Elladan, who had just taken a nasty jab to the nose--with the result that his vision was rather blurred for an instant--did not immediately realize what was happening, until he heard Rumil's familiar, mocking tones. "Well, well, strategy pays off in the end, it would seem."  
  
Elladan looked up, never so glad to see any two elves in his life, and offered Haldir's brothers a lopsided grin. He'd probably have a hell of a black eye tomorrow and it felt like his jaw needed partial realignment, but thank Elbereth, he'd hung on until help could arrive. "It took you long enough," he commented to Rumil, who flashed him a grin before stepping forward and laying his hand on the standard.  
  
"Do be a good boy, there, Haldir, and don't put up a fight. You were outwitted fair and square, you know, and the prize is ours."  
  
Elladan released Haldir's foot and scrambled backwards, well aware that the concept of giving in gracefully was not in Haldir's vocabulary. He'd just managed to get clear when Haldir tore the standard from Rumil's grasp and spun it about, using the end that was normally planted in the ground as a makeshift spear. It was, as Rumil's suddenly cautious expression made clear, quite sharp.  
  
"Come, come, Haldir--it's a standoff at best! Three against one and there's no back way out of this cave. Elladan chose well." Elladan would have preferred for Rumil to leave him out of this, as the look Haldir shot him then could have melted glass. Suddenly, a night alone with him sounded more scary than seductive to Elladan, who offered him a weak grin but wisely said nothing.  
  
"There's at least twenty-one hours left," Haldir reminded his brother in a nasty tone. "A great deal can happen in that time, Rumil."  
  
Orophin, whose presence Elladan had almost forgotten, apparently decided that he didn't want to wait that long, and abruptly rushed his brother from the right. Haldir swung the standard about like a fighting pike, preparing to meet the assault, but in doing so took a step backwards and the next minute was dangling from Elladan's trap, the hidden noose of which had been painted the same color as the cave floor and hidden among some rock chips. It had, Elladan noted now, caught the same foot that he himself had earlier grabbed.  
  
Rumil was too bent over in helpless laughter to do anything for a few moments, but Orophin quickly relieved Haldir of his prize and, fingering it almost reverently, stepped back to the cave entrance. Elladan breathed a sigh of relief and grinned at Orophin. It had all worked out after all, something he would not have counted on a few minutes earlier. Rumil eventually managed to get his breath back and wiped his streaming eyes. "Priceless," he gasped, leaning against the cave wall, "utterly and completely priceless. Orophin, old son, we shall drink out on this story for years to come." Orophin just smirked, his hands still petting the standard as if it was a favorite dog. Rumil pushed himself away from the wall, and walked over to the dangling Haldir, who was thrashing about in apoplectic fury.  
  
"This is cheating," Haldir finally managed to say in between graphic descriptions of what he was going to do to his brothers when he got loose. "He already knew where the standard was--he helped to hide it! He can't compete after that, so the whole Hunt will have to be replayed!"  
  
Rumil glanced at Elladan, who shook his head. "Father hid it," he protested. "He just happened to do so in the same place I'd already set the trap. Great minds thinking alike, I suppose . . . " He trailed off at another ream of curses from Haldir, to the effect that no one would believe such tripe.  
  
"This whole thing was fixed so that Imladris could win!"  
  
Rumil smiled at that, and backed away from his brother, who had come perilously close to getting a hand on him as the vine attached to the ceiling stretched under his weight. "Oh, I doubt that protest will hold up, brother, especially after Orophin and I are declared champions."  
  
Elladan felt himself suddenly grabbed from behind, and before he fully realized what had happened, someone was wrapping a vine similar to the one he'd used to trap Haldir around his hands. "What . . . what are you doing?!," he demanded, staring around at Orophin as if he'd gone mad. "This isn't funny--let me go!" In response, Orophin merely dragged him over to a large boulder and tied him down.  
  
"Oh, we will," Rumil assured him, "just as soon as we've returned this wonderful artifact to Lord Elrond. Such priceless relicts shouldn't be left laying around, should they?"  
  
"You really thought you could fool us?," Orophin asked him, picking up the standard once more from where he'd dropped it in his attack. "We don't know what game you're really playing, Elladan, but if you like Haldir so much, you should enjoy the next few hours in his company."  
  
"We'll send someone back for you . . . eventually," Rumil added, laughing at his outraged expression. "Cheer up, Elladan, you just won your bet!" Then the two brothers worked together to wrap several lengths of vine about Haldir's thrashing form, eventually managing to trap his arms to his sides, before leaving the cave arm in arm.  
  
"That is . . . this . . . ," Elladan struggled against his bonds in impotent fury, words failing him for the first time in his short life. For those two lunatics to leave him, Elladan of Imladris, trussed up like an animal, to await the moment when his own guards would have to release him . . . he shuddered, half in rage and half in horror, at the very thought. They would never let him forget this--never! His reputation was ruined. As he began to look for a way out of such a horrible fate, Haldir abruptly started laughing. Elladan worried that all the blood rushing to his companion's head might have caused an odd reaction, for he was very red in the face, but decided after staring at him for a few minutes that his amusement was genuine. "What is so funny?"  
  
"You are. We are. This whole thing . . .," Haldir moved his head and shoulders about in a gesture that caused him to start spinning in lazy circles. "Of course," he commented in a thoughtful voice after he'd managed to stop the parabolas with a foot to the side of the cave, "it's really you I feel sorry for." Elladan watched in amazement as Haldir slowly used his feet to climb up the wall of the cave, moving from indentation to indentation in the rough rock with seemingly little effort. "After all," he went on, "*I* won the Hunt last year. Even should I lose this time, which of course I have no intention of doing," and he hooked a leg about the top of a small overhang, causing the vine about his leg to sag as his weight came off it, "I will still be a past champion. No one can take that from me. You, on the other hand," and he levered himself up to a seated position, "will forever be the prince who was bested on his own home ground. And within just a few hours, too." Haldir rubbed the vines imprisoning his arms on the jagged stones behind him for a few seconds while Elladan thought about that. Within a surprisingly short span of time, the bonds snapped and he immediately ripped the vine about his leg in two before jumping lightly to the ground.  
  
He approached Elladan's form, which Orophin had draped in a very uncomfortable way over the boulder, with a calculating look on his face. "Of course, the centuries of humiliation you're facing probably don't worry you. I'm sure you'll manage to get used to the snide remarks and the winks and nudges as you walk past, in a ten year or so . . . "  
  
"Are you just going to stand there and gloat?" Elladan demanded, "Or would you still like to win this thing?"  
  
Haldir smiled at him, a gleam coming into his silver-blue eyes. "What did you have in mind?," he asked softly.  
  
Elladan grimaced. "Let me loose and find out."  
  
TBC 


	6. Six

Title: Hunter and Prey, 6/7 Author: Rune Dancer, runedancer@hotmail.com Rating: R Pairing: That would be telling. Disclaimer: I own nothing, Tolkien is God, yadda, yadda. Warnings: Slash. Archiving: Anyone who wants it, just let me know. A/N: This has nothing to do with my previous Unspoken story arc, although some of the characterizations are eerily similar. Updates will be haphazard, but I promise to finish it.  
  
* * *  
  
Legolas watched as Elrohir and Glorfindel set yet another trap for the hapless Hunters. He rather liked the alliteration of that, and decided it must be true when you considered how many tokens the Imladris' twosome had amassed in just the hour that he'd been watching. As it had taken him almost that long to find them in the first place, he could only imagine what their combined total must be at this point.  
  
He stifled a giggle as Glorfindel paused to help Elrohir up a tree with a hand to the younger elf's backside. It was odd, Legolas thought in considerable amusement, that the healthy young acrobat he'd seen besting half a dozen Hunters on his own, suddenly needed as much assistance as a tiny elfling. And it wasn't even that tall of a tree! Glorfindel didn't seem to mind giving the aid, however, and indeed took rather a long time about it. It appeared Elladan had been right about the attraction on both their parts.  
  
Legolas wondered what they were doing, and watched with interest as the two settled into the arms of several evergreens that grew near one of the main paths. It took him a while to figure it out, but, as a nervous looking, lone Hunter came by and unwittingly stopped almost immediately under their hiding spot, he was given a demonstration. It seemed that, instead of hunting down their prey as they'd been doing so far, they had decided to take it easy and let the players come to them. A couple of hooks made out of shirt fastenings and a few bits of thread set them up as fishermen, allowing them to snag passing tokens with a deftness that insured that their owners never missed them. The jumpy young silvan, who started at every bird call and cracking leaf, didn't notice when his golden token was lifted right over his head and disappeared into the greenery above.  
  
Legolas settled down to watch the proceedings with a grin on his face--that was one tactic he was ashamed he'd never thought of--but although he was enjoying himself, something about all this worried him. It just didn't make sense that Elrohir was making no effort whatsoever to lead Glorfindel towards the trap Erestor had set for him. They were, in fact, on the other side of the grounds completely, which was why it had taken Legolas so long to find them. Well, that and the fact that he had to insure that no one saw him, for otherwise there'd be a serious dust up as he wasn't signed up to participate in the Hunt and had no right to be there. His father might even hear that he'd taken part after all, which would definitely not be good. Thranduil was actually quite lenient with his youngest son, but when he gave a direct command he expected it to be obeyed.  
  
Legolas pondered Elrohir's inexplicable behavior while idly observing two of his fellow Mirkwood warriors be relieved of their tokens without either noticing what had happened. On the one hand, he had no desire to interfere if Elrohir had decided not to go through with his part of the scheme; on a level playing field, Legolas was confident of Glorfindel's ability to manage a win. That was especially the case as Elrond had hidden the standard himself this year and had assured him that no one was likely to find it. That meant that tokens would probably decide the winner, and Glorfindel was well ahead of the field there. On the other hand, Elladan had seemed quite sure that Elrohir would do what he viewed as his duty and follow the plan, and he should know his brother. And seeing the complete trust Glorfindel obviously had in his young helper, that could spell disaster. Legolas didn't want to cause any trouble between them, as they seemed to be getting on so well, but he also REALLY wanted Elrond to win his bet. As much as he hated to do it, then, it didn't seem that he could avoid interfering. He only hoped Glorfindel wasn't going to take it too badly.  
  
* * *  
  
Elladan and Haldir expertly stalked the two Galadrim through the woods. They had been helped in the task of catching them up by the fact that Rumil and Orophin were being very careful not to be seen by other Hunters and thus possibly relieved of their prize. They had gone slowly, thinking their captives still safely bound in the cave, and had jumped off the path whenever they so much as heard a twig break. Yet Haldir's knowledge of his brothers' abilities and Elladan's acquaintance with these woods insured that the two thieves never heard their pursuit.  
  
Haldir caught his companion's eye and gestured towards the left. His eyes gleamed with excitement, and Elladan felt an answering power thrumming through his own veins. He nodded and silently slipped around to the far side of the path along which the brothers had just passed. Using grassy knolls, a few protruding rocks and the roots of trees as stepping-stones, he managed to traverse the leaf-strewn forest without the faintest noise to give him away. He listened carefully, but to his surprise heard no sound from Haldir who was presumably matching him on the other side of the road. By the time Elladan was in position several dozen yards ahead of the brothers, he had begun to worry that Haldir had been accosted by some other Hunters and taken out of the game, leaving him to manage as best he could on his own. Just as he was becoming seriously concerned, however, his searching eyes caught a glimpse of silver-gilt hair in a tree overhead that indicated Haldir's presence.  
  
Elladan waited with bated breath until Rumil, who was now carrying the standard, was within three feet of him, then leapt from his hiding place and tackled him around the legs, knocking the slightly built elf completely off his feet. They careened into Orophin, who danced back out of the way, but the force of his assault knocked the standard out of Rumil's grasp and it skidded up the path a few yards. Before either brother could react, Haldir dropped out of the tree, grabbed it, and with a laugh of pure enjoyment, ran full out up the path towards the house.  
  
Elladan tripped up Orophin as he made to follow, buying Haldir a few extra seconds before the Galadrim regained his footing, then jumped up after Rumil clawed his way free of his hold and ran after them. The Galadrim could run like the wind, but Haldir was only a silver blur as he tore towards the finish line. Expecting his next sight of Haldir to be his triumphant face as he was congratulated for a second win, Elladan was understandably surprised to find himself tripping over him a few seconds later. And not only Haldir--for Rumil and Orophin lay in the path, too, having stumbled over a vine that had been stretched across the pathway by some enterprising Imladris guards. One of them picked up the standard, looked at it in disbelief for a second, then turned to run, a huge grin breaking out over his features. Elladan, who had vaulted back to his feet by then, thwarted this intention by grabbing the end of the pole and hanging on. After a brief tug of war, during which the others regained their footing, he wrenched it from the guard's grasp and ran like hell.  
  
"Elladan!," he heard Haldir's enraged tones echo behind him, while an even more ominous silence came from the others whose footsteps he could hear gaining on him; they obviously weren't going to waste breath telling him off. He didn't care, however--the fever of the Hunt, which he'd heard about so often but never before understood, pounded through his veins and all he wanted was to WIN. They'll never catch me, he crowed to himself, for no one knew these woods like he did, and he knew a way to lose them after the next turning . . .  
  
All of a sudden, Elladan felt the standard soar away from him. As he watched in disbelief, it was caught up into the trees as if by magic and disappeared. What the . . .  
  
"Where is it, what did you do with it you little . . . ," Haldir had reached him and seized the front of his robes, lifting him completely off the ground as he shook him furiously.  
  
"There it is!," Rumil pointed skyward, "Glorfindel has it!" Haldir dropped Elladan with a thump as they all gazed up at Glorfindel, who was standing on a tree limb far above their heads and looking at the prize in his hand in a bemused sort of way. A split second later, Rumil was halfway up the tree with Orophin only inches behind him.  
  
Glorfindel watched them come with a smile of delight spreading across his handsome features. "Elrohir, catch!," he sang out, as Rumil came within feet of him. As Elladan watched in stunned incredulity, the standard sailed over all their heads to be deftly caught by his younger brother, who for some reason was also standing in the branches of a nearby tree. Elrohir glanced down at him, winked, and then he was off. Rumil catapulted from Glorfindel's tree and he and Orophin sprinted after him, with Haldir and the guards hard on their heels. The sound of their combined footsteps must have alerted everyone in the vicinity that something important was happening, for shouts rang out immediately from all sides as others scrambled to join in the final race.  
  
Elladan didn't bother, knowing full well that there was no way any of them would catch Elrohir in these woods. His brother easily knew them as well as he did and, while Elrohir might not have much in the way of brawn to his credit, he was as fast as lightening in a race. If they wanted to exhaust themselves, fine, but Elladan couldn't be bothered. Besides, he suddenly felt very tired. The manic excitement that had filled him just seconds before drained away, and he sighed. Elrohir was even now insuring that Haldir would lose his bet, thereby technically giving Elladan what he had craved for so long. But after the events of the day, Elladan had no hopes left of claiming the only prize in all this craziness that he'd ever wanted. He fell back against the carpet of leaves and flung a hand over his bruised eyes. What a perfectly lousy day it had been.  
  
"Glorfindel, hurry!" Elladan removed the arm to see that Legolas had emerged from the nearby woods and was looking anxiously at the seneschal, who dropped lightly from the tree at the sound of his name.  
  
"Legolas! You aren't supposed to be here! What if someone sees? We'll be accused of all kinds of treachery." Glorfindel retained his beaming smile, however, and looked at the two of them kindly. He had apparently had a good time.  
  
"Yes, yes, but you have to get going! Elrohir is going to ruin everything!" Before Elladan could open his mouth to say a word, Legolas continued, "He's going to betray you!" Elladan looked in horror at his friend, who was trying to pull Glorfindel down the path in the direction of the madcap parade, which had by now receded into the distance. "Come on!"  
  
"Legolas, shut up." Elladan put as much force into his words as he could, for he saw the happy light begin to fade from Glorfindel's face as he started to understand.  
  
Legolas ignored him. "Come with me! There's still time if we hurry!"  
  
Glorfindel refused to be shifted, however, but crossed his arms and looked stubbornly at Legolas. "He'll circle back 'round, once he's lost the others. You don't understand--we're partners."  
  
"No, it's you who doesn't understand!" Legolas nudged Elladan with his shoe. "Go on, El, tell him!"  
  
Glorfindel looked down at where Elladan lay, still sprawled in the dust, and grimaced. "I might have known. What have you two been up to, then?"  
  
Elladan looked from Legolas' frantic face to Glorfindel's steadily darkening one and sighed. It didn't look like any of his plans for today were going to work out. "He, er . . . that is, I . . . you see, Erestor . . . "  
  
"That's enough." Glorfindel held up a hand and his face looked suddenly tired. "You don't need to say any more. He isn't coming back, is he?"  
  
Elladan sighed again as Legolas gave a disgusted snort and ran up the path, obviously intent on trying something himself. Gods but he wished he'd stayed in bed today! "No." He wanted to explain, desperately wanted Glorfindel to understand that this whole stupid plan had not been Elrohir's idea. He wanted to tell him how his brother's eyes followed him about Imladris as if he could see nothing else; wanted to describe how, when Glorfindel entered a room, Elrohir looked as if the sun had just come out. But he didn't, seeing from the expression his old tutor wore that this was definitely not a good time for explanations. "I'm sorry, Glorfindel."  
  
His father's seneschal shrugged, his pale face now wearing no expression at all. "No matter. It's all a part of the Hunt, isn't it?"  
  
Elladan felt miserable, and for a moment cursed his brother's stupidity. Ok, yes, keeping one's word was an important thing, but how blind was he not to see that some other things are far more so? Please come back, Elrohir, he begged silently; you may just be running away from your best chance at what you've always wanted. But the woods stayed silent, until, a few moments later, an immense shout echoed from the direction of the Last Homely House. A moment after that, three trumpet blasts rang out, signaling the end of that years' Hunt. "Elrohir, you're an idiot," Elladan murmured, as he watched Glorfindel walk slowly up the pathway towards the house. "And for that matter, so am I."  
  
TBC 


	7. Seven

Title: Hunter and Prey, 7/7 Author: Rune Dancer, runedancer@hotmail.com Rating: R Pairing: That would be telling. Disclaimer: I own nothing, Tolkien is God, yadda, yadda. Warnings: Slash. Archiving: Anyone who wants it, just let me know. A/N: This has nothing to do with my previous Unspoken story arc, although some of the characterizations are eerily similar. Thanks to those who reviewed!.  
  
* * *  
  
Elrond knew something was wrong as soon as he saw his youngest son come pelting down the main forest path towards the finish line. He was running fleet as a deer despite holding the awkward standard in his hand, while a whole host of elves tried to catch up with him. It was obvious to Elrond that they would not be able to do so, for Elrohir had too much of a head start, and he glanced down from the balcony to see an expression of surprised delight flood Erestor's face as he came to the same conclusion. His secretary smirked up at him before beginning to thread his way through the suddenly tense crowd of spectators towards the finish line.  
  
Elrond scanned the elves running behind his son, but there was no sign of Glorfindel, although an infuriated looking Legolas appeared near the back of the group. Elrond left his chair and, heedless of his dignity, dropped off the edge of the parapet and landed lightly on the ground. By the time he'd made his way through the crowd, however, an ugly scene had already broken out.  
  
"But . . . but you have to!," Elrohir was yelling at a flushed Erestor. "It's part of the rules! I can declare myself a substitute for anyone I choose!"  
  
In his agitation, Elrohir was flailing his arms about, causing the standard he still gripped to wave in wide arcs. The onlookers just ducked whenever the staff came flying at their heads, however, instead of moving back; they weren't going to miss witnessing this even in spite of a risk of decapitation. Elrond was about to order them back for their own safety when Erestor's next words caused every other thought to fly from his head.  
  
"The rules are whatever I say they are. I am Hunt Master this year, young Elrohir, if you will recall? And I am awarding the crown of victory to you." He moved forward and tried to place a golden circlet on Elrohir's dusty locks, but the young elf knocked his hand away. The crown went flying, but Elrond plucked it from the air rather handily and moved closer.  
  
Elrond stared in surprise as he reached Erestor's side. His usually natty secretary was disheveled to a degree that had never before been seen. He'd lost one of the heels to his fashionable boots, causing him to have to stand at an awkward angle. The cravat of his once nice silk shirt was askew, most of it bunched under his left ear, and his buckskins were torn in several places. He had a rather fevered look in his eyes, but also the air of someone who has triumphed over numerous obstacles and now sees the end of his trial in sight. Elrond had a sudden sinking sensation in his stomach; he somehow did not think Erestor was going to be reasonable.  
  
Elrohir did not seem to have noticed the ominous signs, however, and was glaring at Erestor with every indication of the onset of a tantrum the likes of which had not been seen since the twins were toddlers. Before he could begin to tell the secretary what he thought of him, however, his pack of pursuers slammed into the crowd at the finish line, throwing some bystanders to the ground, and all of them seemed to have something to say at once. The cacophony was increased a few second later when the Imladris guards became aware of just what Elrohir was trying to do and began roaring their displeasure.  
  
Elrond usually had no difficulty establishing order by his mere presence alone, but tempers were flying so high at the moment that he doubted most people were even aware that he was there. Deciding to revert to an old battlefield tactic, he climbed up on one of the herald's shoulders and, grabbing his trumpet, sent an ear splitting blast echoing across the field. It caused most of the crowd to cry out in pain and cover their sensitive ears, but it also got their attention. "If we may adjourn to the chamber?," Elrond asked after a few seconds, and without waiting to see that he was followed, stomped off in the direction of the council hall in high annoyance.  
  
It took almost half an hour, but at last something resembling an orderly session was achieved. Elrond ignored the hundreds of elves who had crowded into the small open courtyard and the many others sitting on nearby roofs and hanging off balconies. His attention was focused on the sorry looking group standing before him in the circle's center. It was to his utter annoyance that his two sons looked far the most disreputable of the lot. Elladan was sporting two black eyes and his nose looked to be slightly off center, which had certainly not been the case that morning. Elrohir looked as if he had tried to clean himself up at some point, but rings of black smoke still clung on around his eyes, giving him the slightly startled look of a raccoon caught in some nefarious midnight escapade. Indeed, out of the rest of the group that included Haldir and his two brothers, Glorfindel, Erestor, a representative of the guards, and Legolas, only the latter was his usual pristine self. Everyone else looked like a pack of men crawling in from a two-day bender, a fact Elrond barely refrained from pointing out to them. Things were bad enough without adding to the already huge gossip potential here.  
  
"All right. I will ask a question of a particular person, and that person-- and he alone--will answer, am I clearly understood?" The group looked defiant, but all stiffly nodded. Arguing with the master of Imladris when he was obviously in a snit was not a smart move. "Very well. Elrohir, I believe you had a petition for the Hunt Master?"  
  
"It isn't a petition!," Elrohir commented, moving forward a step and resuming his glare at Erestor. "It's my right and he knows it!"  
  
"Erestor?," Elrond repressed a sigh at the mutinous look on his secretary's face.  
  
"Lord Elrond, as you know, the position of Hunt Master was put in place forty years after the origination of the Hunt to guard against just such an incident as this. It has always been custom . . . "  
  
"But not a requirement!" A red faced Elrohir broke in, seemingly even more incensed over the condescending tone in the Hunt Master's voice.  
  
Elrond really couldn't blame him, as, much as he loved Erestor, even he had to admit that the elf could be extremely irritating when in one of his more sanctimonious moods. "Let him finish, Elrohir," Elrond chided, and was rewarded by a smirk from his lover. He sighed inwardly. Erestor would be less pleased later on.  
  
"Thank you, Lord Elrond. Now, as I was saying, it has always been customary for any substitutions to be announced PRIOR to the game. Legolas' request that Glorfindel take his place in the Hunt was therefore allowed as perfectly right and proper, as long as Glorfindel agreed, which of course he did." A low growl came from the direction of the guards at this reminder, but Erestor ignored it. "However, no request was made or even mentioned about Elrohir becoming in turn Glorfindel's substitute, and indeed, as Glorfindel himself participated in the Hunt, allowing it would be in effect placing TWO Glorfindels on the field, giving him an unfair advantage over the other Hunters."  
  
The guard on Erestor's right clapped him on the back in approval, and for the first time that day, the Imladris' guards were shooting looks of admiration in his direction. Elrond knew perfectly well why this was, of course, for if Elrohir was awarded the crown in his own right, then Imladris could claim the victory, something that would go to Mirkwood if the honor went to Glorfindel.  
  
"Do you have anything to say about Lord Erestor's pronouncement, Lord Glorfindel?" Elrond could not, in truth, see a way out of this himself, but hoped the game's traditional master might be familiar with some loophole he had missed.  
  
His hopes were dashed the next minute, however, when Glorfindel distractedly murmured a negative. Elrond felt slightly put out with him, as he barely seemed to be paying attention. Instead, he kept glancing at Elrohir, who blushed every time their eyes met and hastily looked away. At Glorfindel's comment, however, Elrohir stared at him in amazement and the two exchanged what could only be regarded as a significant look. Elrond felt the beginnings of a headache start behind his eyes, and decided that he really didn't want to know what might be going on there. He could only be grateful that Celebrian was not around, as she would not react well to the hint that she could not expect grandchildren from yet another of her children.  
  
"Well, then, my Lord, I take it that my ruling stands?" Erestor was looking smug. Elrond would have liked to choke him, but decided that events would soon mete out much more punishment than anything he could do.  
  
"Very well, Erestor," Elrond gave in as gracefully as possible under the circumstances. "I hereby confer the title of Master Hunter on Elrohir of Imladris, to be held until he shall be called upon to defend his title exactly one year from today." At the announcement, a surge of people, some laughing, some grimacing, and all seemingly wanting to talk at once, converged on Elrohir, who was quickly lost in the sea of heads. Elrond sat back on his throne and caught Legolas' eye across the hall. The imp sighed with a hand to his heart, then shrugged and blew him a kiss before disappearing from the room. Erestor, who had fled the circle to avoid even more jostling, smirked at Elrond, having obviously caught the display. Elrond just shook his head. Poor Erestor. He almost felt sorry for him.  
  
* * *  
  
Elladan sat on his bed and looked with distaste at the sumptuous robes laid out for that evening's feast. It was tradition that all Hunters attend, and usually he was pleased to do so. It was a merry affair enlivened by tall tales of supposed exploits (which this year might even be true as it would be hard to outdo the facts). It was normally a happy and relaxed way to end the festivities. This year, however, his mood hardly permitted him to look forward to it, as he would certainly be expected to recount his "heroics" to the laughing crowd. He had no desire to look the fool any further, nor to see Haldir, whose mood was unknown but was unlikely to be good.  
  
He sighed, and began pulling the burnt umber satin over his head. He supposed he should go if for no other reason than to offer moral support to Elrohir, who was almost certainly going to be given a hard time by the guards. Of course, he HAD won them the title, which might mitigate their annoyance somewhat, but then, as he'd been awarded it only over his loud protestations and after teaming up with the elf whose performance he was supposed to be undermining, things could get a bit tense. Elladan felt responsible for his brother's participation in the whole lamentable affair in the first place, and couldn't leave him at the mercy of the guards all night.  
  
He checked his reflection and batted a stray braid out of his face. He refused to attempt any special enhancements, as elaborate braiding would only draw more attention to his battered face; it had now turned a brilliant purple and orange that, oddly, complemented his robes. He grinned weakly; did he know how to accessorize or what?  
  
Leaving his rooms behind, Elladan walked a few doors down to his brother's chambers. They could go to the ball together and present a united front to any detractors. Not accustomed to knocking at his brother's door, which was always open to him, Elladan sailed right on in, wondering if he'd have to fish Elrohir out from under the bed and force him to go. It would only be worse if they postponed the inevitable, after all. "Come on, Elrohir, hiding won't do any . . . "  
  
Elladan broke off in utter shock, staring at the two figures on the bed, who scrambled for clothes and coverlet, but not quickly enough. Elrohir looked, well, thoroughly debauched, with his bottom lip red and swollen and his body gleaming with some sort of edible oil--peppermint, by the smell. His partner seemed more concerned with covering Elrohir to save him embarrassment than in hiding his own condition, which was . . . impressive. Elladan had never viewed his old tutor as a sex object before, but quickly considered updating that opinion as Glorfindel, blond hair mussed and face flushed, stood to order him from the room. Elladan whistled in admiration, but quickly brought himself under control as the glare directed his way promised retribution later. He briefly considered pointing out that their absence from the ball would certainly be commented upon, but thought better of it as Elrohir threw a pillow at his head. He decided that they couldn't go in their current state anyway, for even properly dressed and coiffured, there could be no doubt about their recent activities. They both looked far too . . . energized.  
  
With a broad grin breaking out over his face, Elladan spun smartly on his heel and made a rapid exit, but not before glancing back to see Elrohir reach up and pull his new lover back into his arms. Well, perhaps the day hadn't been an entire disaster, after all. In somewhat renewed spirits, Elladan started down the hall towards the ballroom. He would bluster his way through this alone somehow; after all, he consoled himself, it is only one night and will soon pass. He had worked himself up to quite a state of bravado by the time he reached the top of the stairs, and was concentrating on the exact wording of a few choice put downs for the guards, when he was jerked inside a nearby room and slammed against the wall.  
  
"What the . . . " A warm tongue stopped further comments and a hard body melted against his own. Elladan was a fairly practiced seducer himself, and therefore tried to pay attention to the technique used to strip him out of his robes without breaking bodily contact, but was never able afterwards to explain it. He felt a warm hand between his bare thighs, pushing them open, and a waft of peppermint in the air--what, had there been a sale?-- right before he was penetrated by someone who most definitely knew what they were doing. He would have protested--they hadn't even had dinner yet-- but intense sensations were soon interfering with normal brain activity. What the hell, he finally decided, wrapping his legs tightly around whoever- it-was and holding on for the ride, he hadn't wanted to go to the damn ball anyway.  
  
Quite some time later found Elladan sitting atop a puddle of umber satin-- which would most definitely need to be cleaned--and staring at the dimly lit profile of Haldir of Lorien. He thought up several witty things to say, then abandoned all of them as he was not sure what had just happened here. He half expected Haldir to get up, make some casual remark about having paid in full, and take off, leaving Elladan to locate another robe and come up with a good excuse for being late. When that didn't happen, he found himself at a loss to know what to say, and this was such a novelty in itself as to further confuse him.  
  
"So, er, no hard feelings?"  
  
Haldir looked at him in silence for a few seconds, then grabbed him round the neck and pulled him close once more. "Elladan, you are SUCH a prat," he murmured, before dragging him into another deep kiss. Well, all right then.  
  
* * *  
  
"I kept you from doing something incredibly foolish, Elrond, but not without exerting a considerable amount of energy and undergoing all sorts of calumnies in the process. I hope this whole unfortunate affair has taught you a lesson." Erestor pointedly kept his back to his lord, concentrating instead on watching through the study window as Legolas Greenleaf and his entourage rode out of Imladris. Apparently, Thranduil's youngest had decided a quick retreat might be prudent, as too many people had noticed his return with the other Hunters. No doubt he was off to arrange a convincing cover story before his father heard any unfortunate rumors. And good riddance, too, Erestor thought glumly. Thranduil's youngest was a walking temptation to all who saw him, and his presence never failed to cause some type of uproar. Beauty like that should be banned.  
  
Erestor felt a warm hand on his shoulder, and the next moment a familiar pair of lips were nuzzling his neck. He shifted, caught between irritation and pleasure, but ire won out and he moved away, doing up the collar of his formal attire as he did so. "We don't have time for that now; you know perfectly well that you have a ball to host." He glanced at Elrond and wrinkled his nose. "You need to get cleaned up; being fashionably late is one thing, but it is shortly going to appear that you don't care about your guests."  
  
"I don't." Elrond, still clad in his casual amethyst robes from the morning, walked over to the bar and poured himself a drink. "They have been quite well entertained today, I think, and there is food, drink and music enough for them to fully enjoy the farewell gala without me."  
  
Erestor humphed; he should have expected this. "Just because you lost . . ."  
  
Elrond quirked an eyebrow at him. "Is that what you think? That I'm being a sore loser?"  
  
Erestor fidgeted, playing with a corner of his sapphire robes. He didn't really like bright colors, especially for evening wear, but Elrond had given the ensemble to him and he'd thought it diplomatic to use it. "Well, you seemed upset all day; what else am I to think?"  
  
Elrond chuckled and poured himself a refill. "Actually, Erestor, I am just feeling sorry for you. It was quite an opportunity and now . . . "  
  
Erestor glowered from under his perfectly plucked brows. "Opportunity? You know, Elrond, I thought we had a better understanding than this, I really did. If you've . . . well . . . tired of me, and want to move on to someone new, you could simply say so, you know. All this betting business . . . I hate to say it, but it was really rather common of you." Erestor wasn't in the habit of speaking so freely to his lord, but he had been deeply hurt by Elrond's suggestion.  
  
"Melethryn!," Elrond set down his glass and came over to pull the reluctant secretary into his arms. "You know I love you. Why would I want anyone else? You are confusing things, Erestor."  
  
Erestor bit his lip, but did not relax into the encircling arms. It was time they had this out. Tearing away, he went over to the bar and tried to give himself something to do by pouring some wine, but he only managed to slosh it all over the place. Giving up, he set the bottle down with a thump and turned to glare at Elrond, hurt tears shimmering in his black eyes. "Then why all this?! Why did you even bring up having someone else share our bed, if you are not tired of me? I would never make such a suggestion to you!" Elrond's lips quirked, and Erestor briefly contemplated throwing the bottle at him, but it was too good a vintage to waste. "If you will excuse me, my lord," he said stiffly, "I believe I have duties to attend to."  
  
He tried to sweep from the room, but Elrond caught him by the upper arm before he could do so and pulled him into another embrace. "Erestor, listen to me," and the sound of his voice and the brush of a hand through Erestor's hair was deliberately soothing. "I was approached by someone at last year's Hunt, asking if you were . . . available. This person found you, how did he put it now? 'Exotic and enticing,' I believe were the terms used. But not wanting to cause any unpleasantness by upsetting my chief advisor, and, I suspect, not wishing to embarrass himself were you already attached, he came to me for advice. I gently commented that I thought you were, er, otherwise occupied, and that it might be well if he looked elsewhere for his entertainment."  
  
Erestor looked up uncomprehendingly, as he couldn't see what any of this had to do with Elrond's ridiculous bet. "I felt," his lord continued, "perfectly justified in telling him this, for surely you and I are very satisfied with our relationship. But I couldn't help but notice during the rest of the Hunt that your eyes were prone to linger on the individual in question, and his on you. I began to feel that I might be depriving you of a memorable experience, a fact which didn't seem fair considering that you have never attempted to interfere with my and Celebrian's relationship. And so, I began to reconsider."  
  
Elrond laughed at his secretary's scandalized expression, and dropped a kiss on his full, red lips. "And so, when the time neared for this year's Hunt, I began to wonder how I could make the offer to you without having you feel that you were in any way betraying me by accepting. After a time I thought I had it, and last month approached you with the idea of a threesome, but seeing your immediate distress, I dropped the subject. I have known you long, Erestor, and have never known you to be one to try new things easily, so I wondered if your refusal was one genuinely meant, or simply because of your tendency to favor the tried and true over the unknown. In the end, I decided to approach your admirer with the idea and see how he took to it, for if he declined there was no point in going on any further. But he seemed to be extremely, er, positive, about the idea, and so the only question left was how to persuade you to agree. I admit the ruse about the bet was a tacky one, but it occurred to me so suddenly that I had done it before I fully thought about how you might perceive the offer."  
  
Elrond kissed his lover on top of the head before moving away to retrieve his glass. "But I entirely understand now, my dear Erestor, that you genuinely did not want anything to do with my scheme, and of course I respect your wishes. But I hope you will understand that it was well meant, and not hold it against me or Legolas. He does so admire you, you know."  
  
"L-Legolas?" Erestor sat down rather suddenly on the edge of the window seat, his head spinning. Elrond and Legolas, at one time, seeing to his pleasure . . . and he had turned it down?!  
  
The cry of anguish could be heard as far away as the stables, where it caused a mini stampede among the horses. It perhaps explains why no one wanted to question too deeply why the host, winner and several key players at that year's most memorable Hunt, never did show up for the farewell ball.  
  
The End 


End file.
